A Stampede of Hufflepuffs
by unsatisfiedhermit
Summary: Hermione returns to a damaged Hogwarts to complete her seventh year without her two best friends. When Slytherin students are attacked, she must partner with old enemies to protect the bright future for which she sacrificed so much. Her strong sense of justice has always looked out for the underdog, even if that now means those who lost the war. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello. This is my first piece of fan fiction, but I don't want you to go easy on me. My justification for writing this is that it's a writing exercise (even if that's far from my only reason for writing this). Please be honest and let me know what you do and don't like about my writing. Thank you!

Chapter 1

"Are you sure you'll be okay here? Without, you know, us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry stared at her, the scar on his forehead crinkled with worry.

"I'll be fine," she said, waving away his concerns with her hand.

Harry didn't look convinced. Her best friend may have been the savior of the wizarding world, but she hadn't thought about that as they had joked and laughed together the past few days. She hadn't let herself. If she thought about Harry defeating Voldemort, she'd remember his last stand and all the friends she had lost to his destruction. Instead, while they lounged about Hogwart's grounds in the last of the summer sunshine or meandered through Hogsmeade, she reminisced with Harry about the happy memories: quidditch games and the Yule ball, sneaking around in his invisibility cloak and the twins' indoor fireworks display. Both of them skillfully danced around the painful reminders of those who were only memories now. Harry had seemed relieved not to talk about anything more, but now he was veering into more emotional territory and appeared just as uncomfortable as she was.

"But so much happened here," Harry continued. "You don't have to come back. You know the ministry would give you any job you wanted."

"I don't want to be handed a job I'm not prepared for," said Hermione.

"Like you'd ever be caught unprepared."

Hermione glared at her friend, but they both knew it was only for show.

"Watch that wall," Hermione said, trying to distract him.

They had spent the better part of the hour patching a gaping hole in their beloved Hogwarts near Ravenclaw tower, directing stones back in place and casting protective charms over the masonry. Hermione had been helping with the rebuilding of the castle for months now, offering her services to an overwhelmed McGonagall almost immediately after the battle ended. Her seventh year had been taken from her, and she wanted it back.

"'Mione," Harry said, "I know it's been difficult, what with your parents and everything."

Hermione tensed, and the strengthening spell she'd been casting faltered.

"It's fine."

Harry sighed. "No, it's not, but if this is really what you want, I'll leave you alone. I only want to make sure you're not coming back here to avoid them."

"You know how important education is to me," she said.

Nodding, Harry turned back to the nearly repair wall. "Alright then."

Hermione let some of the tension in her shoulders relax.

"But don't think you can get rid of me this easily," he added with a grin. "I'm going to visit whenever I can."

"Harry, I know you'll be busy-"

Harry shook his head. "You're the closest thing to family I've got, Hermione."

Looking down, Hermione tried to hide the tears burning on her eyes. She'd spent nearly a year on the run with him, six years by his side at school before that. Harry was always there, and she had almost lost him only months before.

"You too," she said.

When Harry swept her into a hug, the tears spilled over.

"They'll come around," he whispered.

Hermione wanted to believe him, but couldn't. Instead, she pulled away, nodding and wiping at her cheeks.

"Just don't get yourself killed out there," she said. "It'd be a shame to defeat the Dark Lord himself only to be caught off guard by a half-wit Slytherin on the run."

Harry laughed. "I hope I can handle a few runaway Death Eaters after that."

Hermione smiled, but she couldn't suppress the twinge of fear in her stomach. Harry had long wanted to be an auror and had been training for such work practically since he'd picked up a wand. That didn't mean Hermione was any less worried.

The groan of a heavy door opening drew their attention down the hallway. The new headmistress's dark robes swirled around her ankles as she made her way towards them.

"Mr. Potter," she said. "I would have thought you'd have left by now. Wouldn't want to keep the minister waiting."

"Hermione roped me into this," he said, waving at the wall. "But you're right. Bye 'Mione."

After another hug to his friend and a goodbye to his old professor, Harry darted away leaving Hermione to face the weary face of the headmistress.

"Now Miss Granger," said McGonagall, "I would like to speak with you about the position of Head Girl."

Taken off guard for a moment, Hermione stiffened and tried to school her expression. She had suspected she'd be selected, but couldn't help the swell of pride and relief sweeping through her veins.

"I know you will have a busy year ahead of you," McGonagall continued, "getting back on track for your NEWTs, but I think it no secret that I need all the help I can muster getting this school put back together in more than one way."

"Yes, of course, Professor-I mean Headmistress," Hermione stammered, turning red. "Sorry."

McGonagall smiled for a moment before delving back in. "You will be in charge of all the prefects, of course, organizing student events and outings with their help. Besides the usual duties as Head Girl, I will ask for your continued help in repairing the castle and with the coordination of extra prefect patrols. Being short staffed, I will need you to fill in for some of the duties usually fulfilled by the faculty."

Hermione nodded, trying not to let the image of her old muggle studies professor fill her mind. The war had taken several teachers, and with so much work being done to rebuild the ministry and economy, there were few qualified adults left to take up posts at the school.

"Your most important duty, however," McGonagall said, "Is fostering a sense of unity and forgiveness amongst the students."

"Headmistress?" Hermione asked, unsure of what she meant.

The older woman fixed her sharp eyes on Hermione's. "I think it no secret that much of Voldemort's success lied in taking advantage of fractures in our society that existed long before his reign of terror. I aim to heal those divides early, before they can take hold in another generation."

"Blood status."

"That is part of it, yes. Which is why I chose you, the brightest muggle-born witch of your generation, as Head Girl."

Hermione's head swam with the responsibility. If she hadn't been able to convince others of her worth before, how would she now? And if McGonagall's choice of Head Girl was so strategically chosen…

"Who is Head Boy?" she blurted.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "The other side of the divide, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mind flitted through the possibilities, but kept returning to one face. She'd heard he would be returning. She had thought she would simply ignore him.

"Headmistress, you can't be serious," Hermione said. "He can't be Head Boy! He shouldn't even be back here!"

Anger flushed through her body, and she felt her grip tighten on her wand instinctively. Yes, he had lied to Bellatrix about their identities, and yes, his mother had saved Harry's life-it was all that stood between him and a sentence to Azkaban-but he was a Death Eater, had plotted to kill Dumbledore. And the six years of cruel insults hadn't left her memory either, nor her arm where his aunt had burned a permanent reminder.

"I believe you'll find Mr. Malfoy's disposition has much improved," said McGonagall. "He too had his childhood taken away from him by a madman. I would hope you could sympathize."

"But Headmistress-"

McGonagall held up a hand. "I know it won't be easy, but I have invited Mr. Malfoy back for the express purpose of healing the divide between us. Others will not take the news well, and I expect you to lead by example."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Forgiveness is one thing, but working with him nearly every day-"

"-will show that you have truly forgiven," said McGonagall.

Hermione glared at a scuff on her shoe.

"Even if you can't offer him forgiveness," the headmistress continued more softly, "I hope that you can find a way to be amicable. We'll never move our society forward if we can't find a way to work with those who have wronged us and are most in need of help."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione warred internally between her desire to please McGonagall and her need to watch that ferret pay for what he'd done.

"Alright," she whispered. "But I won't put up with insults or laziness. He can't ignore or abuse his duties like he did as prefect."

"I have been assured by Mr. Malfoy that he will put forth every effort to contribute positively to the school," McGonagall said. "One word from me, and he will be put back under house arrest with no access to magic for a year or more."

At the mention of his home, memories of the Malfoy mansion flashed through her mind: the cool of polished floors under her skin, the chandelier she was sure had trembled from the echo of her screams alone. Hermione rubbed her arm, and although she hadn't worn anything but long-sleeves since the incident, she felt as if McGonagall could see through the thin fabric with that laser gaze of hers.

"Now that we have that out of the way," McGonagall finally said, "I have a curriculum meeting with Hagrid that I do not want to miss, or the poor third years may find themselves at the wrong end of a griffin."

With her robes swishing, the headmistress strode away, and Hermione leaned her forehead against the cold stone of the castle wall.

"Are you going to finish it?" asked a quiet voice.

Hermione glanced behind her to find a portrait of a lady wearing a turban pointing at the newly repaired wall.

"There's another crack, just there," the woman said. "I don't want a draft coming in during winter."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Hermione muttered. "I'll fix it all."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Apprehension gripped Hermione as she stood outside the train compartment containing the twenty-odd assortment of prefects who had returned to school. She picked at her new school robes, feeling suddenly self-conscious in them. A year away from school had felt more permanent than she realized.

"Granger."

The cool voice sent goosebumps prickling her arms. Hermione slowly turned to him, prepared for that punch-worthy smirk she'd grown to loathe. Instead, she found Malfoy gazing at her with a look of uncertainty that she more than understood.

"Malfoy," she finally spit out without malice. She refused to look away, assuming he'd find her weak if she did so-and she was not going to start out the year with that prat thinking he could walk all over her.

"Are you going to go in, or are we going to stand here all day?" he finally said with a hint of irritation.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know what McGonagall told you, but I am not happy with this arrangement, and I will not hesitate to inform her about the slightest infraction on your part. Are we clear?"

"Rehearse that all day?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Anger bubbled in her stomach, but the accuracy of his question left her too flustered to respond immediately. When she finally opened her mouth, he cut her off.

"I don't know what McGonagall told you," he said, "But I won't be your little lap dog, obeying your every command. I will do what I must to get through this year, even if it means working with Potter's girlfriend, but I won't be humiliated in the process."

Hermione glared at him, knowing she had lost the upper hand she had strategized about for days.

"Now shall we?" he asked, bowing slightly and waving his hand out in a mock gesture.

"You're still a pompous ass," she said.

"And I'm positive you're still a pretentious know-it-all."

Gripping the wand hidden in her robes, Hermione exhaled slowly. The laughter of their classmates from inside the compartment drifted under the door. She had let Malfoy get the better of her too many times. She couldn't let this get out of control so soon.

"Despite our disagreements," she said, "I ask that you not insult me in front of the others. It would undermine everything Headmistress McGonagall is striving towards."

Draco eyed her cautiously. "Only if you extend the same courtesy."

"Of course."

With some semblance of a truce in place, Hermione reached for the compartment door. Her hand hesitated for a moment.

"And I'm not 'Potter's girlfriend'," she said before yanking at the latch.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned on the two as they entered the compartment. The room stretched the length of the train car, the largest compartment of the Hogwarts Express always reserved for the first prefect meeting of the year. Hermione scanned the faces scattered across the room; she recognized most of them, could guess the names of those she hadn't met before thanks to the roster in her bag.

With a jolt, she remembered her first meeting here as a fifth year. Ron had fallen asleep next to her, despite Hermione jabbing him periodically, but had awoken when Malfoy had made some snide remark about being lost without Potter to boss them around. Ron would have definitely thrown a curse or a punch by now at the blonde-haired man standing behind her.

Only a handful of students from that meeting were present now. Hermione moved across the room, nodding at them: Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott representing Hufflepuff, and Padma Patil whose Ravenclaw counterpart hadn't returned. Hermione had worried that the repeat seventh years would skew the numbers, leaving her with much more work dividing the usual duties, but the absence of some in the year below had nearly evened things out.

"We may as well begin," Hermione said, pulling out stacks of parchments from her bag and passing them around. "Here are your schedules. They are enchanted to mirror any changes made to my own copy, so please check them often. You'll see that they are color-coded by house."

Malfoy scoffed. When he caught Hermione glaring at him, he shrugged as if he couldn't help it.

"This year we have been tasked with extra patrol duties due to the shortage of professors," Hermione continued. "You will also be expected to help with some of the rebuilding efforts around the castle."

"It hasn't been cleaned up?" Hannah asked.

Hermione detected discomfort and even fear in both her face and those around her. No one wanted the constant reminder of the battle.

"The more common areas of the castle have been repaired," Hermione said. "Some smaller work remains."

"Why am I paired with her?" asked a freckled girl, staring at her parchment. Hermione recognized her as a sixth year Ravenclaw and knew without looking who she had been partnered with.

"Under Headmistress McGonagall's guidance, patrol pairings will not be assigned by house anymore, but on a random basis" said Hermione. "She has instituted a series of measures meant to foster inter-house unity, including no longer sitting with our houses at all meals, which will begin sometime after the sorting."

"Is that why he's back?" asked Ernie.

Hermione felt the room tense. Ernie didn't have to point to let everyone know who he meant. Before Hermione could respond, Malfoy stepped around her.

"I'm here for the same reason you are, MacMillan," he shot at the glaring boy. "To take my NEWTs and get on with my goddam life."

Ernie shot out of his seat. "You should be in Azkaban."

"The Wizengamot said otherwise," Malfoy said cooly.

"Death Eater!"

The room erupted in shouting.

Hermione ran a hand over her face. She knew this would happen eventually, but she was hoping not to have to deal with it so soon.

"Can we please calm down!" Hermione yelled, gripping her wand.

To her surprise, her classmates quieted and sat down. Hermione felt the weight of her position. These people trusted her, looked up to her, maybe even idolized her as the Chosen One's best friend.

"Hermione," Ernie said quietly, "You can't expect us to forget what happened-to act all chummy with someone who fought for Voldemort."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, whose pale knuckles had turned even whiter on his clenched fists. She didn't know if it was anger or embarrassment or self-restraint keeping his mouth closed, but she was grateful for whatever it was.

"McGonagall has welcomed Malfoy back," she said. "I trust her judgment. You can take it up with the headmistress if you have any problems."

"Well she must be right," drifted Luna's voice from a corner. "McGonagall has never led us astray before." Hermione had initially not noticed the blonde, although she didn't know how now that she saw the radish shaped earrings hanging from her ears, enchanted to blink varying shades of pink and red. Hermione felt immense gratitude for the friendly face among the sea of skeptical ones.

No one else spoke as the train rattled on the tracks and the countryside whipped by outside the windows.

"Alright," Hermione finally said. "I guess we're done."

As conversations broke out amongst the others, Malfoy darted for the door, and Hermione followed, compelled by a sense of duty to say something.

"Malfoy!" she called down the hallway at his quickly retreating figure.

He turned on his heel, and she nearly ran into him.

"What?" he spat.

"Are-are you okay?"

"And why would you care?" he asked, a vein in his forehead visibly pulsing.

Hermione remembered the sneer in his voice when he had called her a mudblood, the humiliation that flooded her body when he had cursed her teeth to grow and grow. She thought about how satisfying the crush of his nose under her fist had felt. More importantly, she saw Dumbledore's body lying crumpled in the grass, knowing it was, at least partially, Malfoy's fault.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

Malfoy glared at her for a moment before turning away and slamming through the door to the next train car.

Hermione groaned and pulled her hands down her cheeks. How would she get through a year of this?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the follows!

Chapter 3

"Welcome students," the headmistress called across the great hall. The floating candles glimmered above the tables, casting a warm glow over the room that helped settle Hermione's nerves. She had barely heard a single name called out during the sorting. As the highest ranking Gryffindor, she should have been the one to welcome the nervous first years to their table, but she could only worry about what McGonagall was going to do next. Instead, Ginny had patted the new kids on the back and lead the rest of the house in shouting their congratulations. Everyone in the hall seemed intent on ignoring the more quiet reception at Slytherin table and the occasional ashen face of an eleven-year-old terrified at being sorted into the Dark Lord's disgraced house.

Now the hall had fallen silent with the lean figure of McGonagall commanding their attention.

"There are no words to express the depths of grief we have all felt at the loss of loved ones," the headmistress said.

Below the table, a hand grasped Hermione's fingers. She squeezed back, seeing the tears in Ginny's eyes, neither meeting the other's gaze for fear of completely losing their composure. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at having spent so much energy worrying about her Head Girl duties while her friend's head was obviously swimming with memories of her dead brother. Hermione had lost too, but she hadn't let herself dwell on it, and she suddenly felt grateful for the distractions of the past week.

"We will forever remember those we lost," continued McGonagall. "By rebuilding Hogwarts and continuing your education you have honored their memories by participating in what they fought so hard to preserve: a peaceful world where each of us has the opportunity to learn magic, no matter our origins."

Murmurs broke out amongst the students, and Hermione knew many were probably casting furtive glances at the more sparsely populated table of green. She kept her eyes on the enchanted starry sky above.

"In saying this," McGonagall said loudly, regaining her audience, "I must emphasize that I include everyone in retaining the right to be educated here, even those who may have been under the influence of unsavory people or ideas."

Hermione watched Ginny, who was staring at the headmistress with a look of resignation. After meeting with the prefects on the train, Hermione had wandered back to the compartment that held her friend. She hadn't been able to say much about what had happened, more out of nerves than anything. Luckily, Luna had appeared and filled in Ginny on McGonagall's plan.

"To begin this process," continued the headmistress, "I believe we must heal the divisions amongst ourselves. Whilst dormitories and quidditch teams will remain split by house, I have requested that professors pair students in their classes across house lines, and beginning immediately, students are encouraged to mingle during meals."

McGonagall paused, and Hermione exhaled slowly before jerking upwards out of her seat. Avoiding meeting the eyes following her across the room, she strode towards the far table, her footsteps echoing in the stunned silence. Despite having been told this would happen, surprise filled Malfoy's face as Hermione plunked next to him at the Slytherin table. Behind her, other prefects had begun shuffling between the tables.

"Shouldn't you be setting an example?" Hermione hissed at Malfoy.

"And cause a stampede of frightened Hufflepuffs?"

A gangly boy sitting across the table snorted, and Hermione glared at Theodore Knot's smirk. She had never spoken to him before, despite being in the same year. He was intelligent and in all of her NEWT level classes in 6th year, but kept mostly to himself.

"Hello Hermione," Luna's dreamy voice floated over the table. She plopped down on Malfoy's other side. "Hello Theo."

The dark-haired wizard didn't respond; Luna didn't seem to care.

"I noticed you didn't want to move from your table, Draco," she continued, her radish earrings blinking. "You shouldn't feel bad, though. I was rather nervous to make friends outside my house once, but it turned out wonderfully."

"Uh..." Malfoy said, shifting in his seat. "Maybe I will go make some first years wet their pants."

As Malfoy nearly tripped over himself to get away, Theo laughed.

"That was too easy," he mumbled.

Luna smiled. "People can be a lot like blibbering humdingers; they only need a little nudge to get going."

"A blibbering what?" asked Theo, glancing at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged and glanced over her shoulder to see Malfoy slumped among a group of very small and alarmed looking Hufflepuffs. The other Slytherin prefects who had dutifully moved seemed to have been more warmly accepted, although Hermione noticed only one other person, a Ravenclaw, had braved sitting with Salazar's house, and she was fairly certain he had a sister sorted into Slytherin.

"Thank you, students," McGonagall said, and with a wave of her hand, the colored house banners floating over the tables all transformed into Hogwarts crests.

McGonagall made several innocuous announcements: Professor Slughorn had returned as potions master and head of Slytherin, Professor Vector who taught arithmancy would take over McGonagall's old position as head of Gryffindor, visits to Hogsmeade would begin within a month, and so forth. When the feast finally began, Hermione found herself oddly enjoying her company. Luna kept the conversation lively, able to draw responses from the unwilling participants around her. Hermione mourned the absence of her best friends only a few times before calling for the Gryffindor first years to follow her to their tower.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" muttered Ginny as they trooped through the portrait of the fat lady. "At least you didn't have to sit by that tosser all night."

After clearing the common room of stray first years, they trudged upstairs to their dormitory. The room Hermione had lived in for six years had been turned over to a new generation of students, not that she cared since she wouldn't have to look at Lavender Brown's empty bed all year. Instead, she and Fay Dunbar, her only roommate to return, had both squeezed extra beds into the dormitories of the girls a year younger. Hermione had specifically requested Ginny's room, and she found comfort watching her fling her quidditch gear out of her trunk, the swirl of scarlet robes reminding her of Harry and Ron.

"Think you'll have a chance at winning this year, Captain?" Hermione asked.

Ginny grinned. "To practice inter-house unity, I have decided not to gloat when we crush those snakes."

Hermione laughed. "I don't think that's possible."

"Well, a little bit doesn't count."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Classes began the next day, and Hermione found most of her stress swept away by the familiar and comforting tug of schoolwork. Fighting the Dark Lord on the run had strengthened some of her abilities—Professor Flitwick was very impressed with her mastery of protective wards—but she felt rusty in subjects she had ignored for the better part of the past year, like arithmancy or advanced potions.

"You'll get back into the swing of things," Professor Slughorn told her when her first potion of the year had turned a smoky gray instead of the intended sky blue.

He had patted her on the back and moved along to exclaim over Theo's perfect brew of sleeping potion.

"He had an extra year of instruction," Ginny muttered across the aisle. "Don't feel too bad."

"You said none of you learned much last year," hissed Hermione.

Ginny shrugged. "Haven't you and Theo always been top of the class?"

" _I_ have always been top," she muttered.

Someone snorted behind them, and Hermione turned to find Malfoy idly stirring a cauldron filled with purple liquid.

"Find something funny?" Hermione asked. "Looks like you didn't do much better."

"I'm not _the_ _brightest witch of my generation_ ," he shot back.

"I would hope not," interjected Ginny, looking him up and down with a laugh. "Parkinson would be very disappointe; unless she swings that way."

Malfoy glared.

"I thought you were going to keep to yourself," huffed Hermione.

"I would if your jealousy wasn't leaking all over the room," he said, shifting his icy gaze to her.

Hermione's fists balled. She breathed deeply, reminding herself of all the reasons it would be a very bad idea to hex the ferret: she'd promised McGonagall, she could lose her position as Head Girl, and most importantly, Malfoy would glean way too much satisfaction knowing he'd gotten to her.

"Just stay away from me," she hissed.

Determined to ignore him, she turned back to her own mess of a potion. Glancing around, she tried to assess if anyone had heard their exchange besides Ginny; Padma Patil, sitting closest to them, seemed more intent on badgering Theo about his technique for crushing red-spotted beetles than about listening in on their conversation.

"That's going to be difficult seeing as we have a date tonight," Malfoy said.

Hermione whipped around. "What?"

"Don't tell me that the Head Girl doesn't check her own schedule?" he said in mock horror.

With a sinking feeling, she fished a parchment out of her bag. Sure enough, his name appeared in green next to hers for patrol duty after curfew. She had enchanted the schedule to assign duties randomly, as she thought this would be most fair, which now seemed like a terrible idea.

"Go ahead," Malfoy said. "Change it."

Hermione fought back the juvenile retort sitting on her tongue. She could manually remove or add to the parchment, but doing so for petty personal reasons was an obvious ethical breach that he was probably salivating to see. Instead, she forced a smile.

"And miss your charming company?" she asked sweetly.

Ginny laughed, and Hermione finally tore her eyes from Malfoy's dark gaze.

Hours later Hermione's face burned with heat at the memory: cutting off her nose to spite her face was what Ginny had called it. Now standing next to the infuriating boy, she cursed her pride.

"Feeling regretful?" he asked, sitting on the steps outside the great hall.

Hermione's face pinched with annoyance. In the faint glow of her wand, the sharp lines of Malfoy's face appeared even more sinister than usual. The memory of a very scared Malfoy, muttering that he didn't recognize the disfigured boy in front of him, flashed through her mind. Before that memory could move forward in time, she shook her head and started up the stairs.

"Let's get this over with," she said.

McGonagall had insisted that the extra patrols of students at night be done in pairs, which was logical. Hermione understood the rationale, and as they trudged through the castle in darkness she reminded herself of this. The headmistress hadn't done this to dredge up unpleasant memories. Malfoy wasn't here to hurt her.

"Professor Sinistra is on duty with us tonight," Hermione said, hoping idle chatter would clear her head.

"I'm aware."

"We shouldn't have any problems," she continued as they crept through a hallway. The darkness pressed around them, putting her on edge.

"Great."

"Nearly a month of school, and nothing suspicious to report from any of the patrols."

Malfoy stopped walking and turned to face her, his skin even paler in the blue light of his wand.

"Is part of patrol duty boring your partner with small talk?" he asked.

Hermione's shoulders tensed. "I'm only being polite."

"No, you're nervous or deranged or—I don't know—lonely without your boyfriends."

"They're not—"

Malfoy took a step towards her. "I don't care what sort of weird love triangle you've got going on with those idiots. I want you to shut up."

The mention of her friends brought a sting to her eyes. She wouldn't cry in front of this git, though. She gritted her teeth and closed the gap between them even further.

"And I don't care about your pampered tortured soul," she spat back. "Keep your angst and your—"

A scream cut off Hermione's tirade. They glanced warily at one another for a moment before sprinting down the hallway.

"Where'd that come from?" she muttered as they paused on a stairwell landing.

"Like I bloody know," said Malfoy.

"I didn't expect—"

"Ahem!"

They spun around to find a painting of two men on a beach staring back at them.

"I believe the ruckus is up on the sixth floor," said one of them.

"That, or the portrait of Herpo the Foul is a liar," the other chimed in. "Wouldn't be the first time he's gallivanted through the castle spreading lies."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy. They had no other information to act on.

"Let's go," she said, sprinting up a staircase, hoping it wouldn't move on them before they arrived at the sixth floor. For a moment she worried that Malfoy wouldn't follow, but she heard the slap of his shoes on worn stone and sped her own steps.

Following frantic pointing from paintings, they clattered through the sixth floor. Finally, they rounded a corner and saw the heap of school robes in the light of their wands.

"Oh, no," Hermione whispered, momentarily shocked.

Malfoy shoved past her. He rolled the body over, and the girl groaned.

"It's Greg's sister," he said, panic lacing his voice.

Kneeling on the other side, Hermione examined the girl's face. She may have been biased knowing she shared genes with Gregory Goyle, but the girl didn't look to be much a beauty—not that Hermione could really tell, thanks to a bruise blossoming across her cheek and a trickle of blood running from a broken nose. The girl's heavily lidded eyes fluttered open briefly.

"You'll be okay," Hermione told her, grabbing her hand. With the other, she raised her wand. A silver otter erupted from it. The sprite twisted through the air before bounding down the hallway.

"Was that a bloody patronus?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes. The headmistress should be here soon."

Malfoy's eyes grew large. "You sent a message? That's complex magic."

"Well, you don't survive a war without learning some complex things," she spat.

She stood and began pacing to burn off the adrenaline pumping through her. Seeing the beaten girl's face brought back too many memories of her own friends' cuts and bruises.

"Her attacker couldn't have gotten far," she said, then walked a few paces to the nearest painting. "What did you see?"

A painting of a solemn child in black blinked in the wandlight. "I awoke to a scream."

"Yes, but did you see anything?"

"A shadow. The girl crumpled under the shadow."

Hermione sighed. "A shadow? Really?"

Malfoy appeared next to her. "Did you see which way it went?"

The child shook her head. "Your light chased away the shadow, of course."

"That's helpful," said Hermione.

Malfoy gave her an odd look.

"What is going on?" a shrill voice called from the end of the hallway.

"Headmistress! Someone's been attacked," Hermione said, relief filling her body.

"Gabby Goyle," provided Malfoy. "She's unconscious, but breathing."

McGonagall swooped down to examine the girl.

"No immediate sign of the attacker, I presume?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head.

The headmistress sighed and flicked her wand. A silver cat sprinted away. "Very well. The rest of the faculty will search while we accompany Miss Goyle to the infirmary."

"We can take her," Hermione offered.

"Miss Granger, I will not have students wandering the halls alone, not after such an assault."

Nodding, Hermione joined the procession of floating body and headmistress. She had almost forgotten about Malfoy until he fell into step next to her.

"It's an Order trick, isn't it?" Malfoy whispered. "The patronus. That's how the Order sent messages."

Hermione searched his face warily. "I didn't think it was a secret."

Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't get out much the last couple years."

 _Victims of a madman_. That's what McGonagall had said they were. Hermione had to reluctantly agree—but it didn't change the fact that he was a ferret.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Maybe she tripped and fell," Neville said, stabbing his waffle. "Goyle's aren't exactly known for being graceful."

"She was probably trying to open the Chamber of Secrets or something vile like that," whispered Padma with a grin.

"Like a Goyle could be the bloody heir of Slytherin," Ernie spat.

"I heard she was sneaking into the astronomy tower to snog with a Ravenclaw," Hannah Abbott offered.

"Too bad any of us weren't there to see what happened," said Terry Boot.

Hermione ignored several curious glances cast her way. Of all mornings, she should have sat with the Slytherins for their weekly obligatory get together; they would have left her alone. She never thought she'd regret eating with her fellow seventh-agains, as they had taken to calling themselves. Many, like she, had spent the last year on the run, and Hermione had hoped she would feel understood amongst them, especially since so many had been members of Dumbledore's Army. But today, with her name tied to the gossip swirling around the great hall thanks to the patrol roster, she wished she had skipped the meal altogether. She did not want to relive finding Gabby Goyle's limp body. She sipped her tea and focused intently on an invitation to Professor Slughorn's first Slug Club meeting that she fully intended to ignore.

A squeak brought Hermione's head up, and she found Dennis Creevey quickly scooting down the bench away from a pale head of hair. Malfoy had plopped across the table from her.

"What do you want?" asked Ernie.

"Bugger off, MacMillan," Malfoy said.

"Can we stop yelling?" Hermione asked. "I have a headache."

"Late night?" asked Hannah, obviously digging for more information.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What did you want, Malfoy? I doubt you're here to ask after my health."

Ernie snorted. Malfoy shot a look of disgust at him.

"McGonagall wants to see us," he finally told Hermione.

Hannah looked like she was about to burst. Wanting to avoid anymore questions, Hermione left the table quickly, aware of all the eyes following her. Once they had exited the great hall, Malfoy slowed and fell into step next to her.

"You're welcome," he said.

"For what, exactly?"

Malfoy smirked. "Extracting you from a rabid Hufflepuff."

"Rabid Hufflepuff?" Hermione repeated.

"Oh, don't act like Hannah Abbot wasn't about to rip you apart to obtain even a shred of gossip."

"You were there, too. Shouldn't you be worried?"

"Of course not. Why do you think I cultivate my warm, inviting manner so carefully?"

Hermione snorted, then realized that Draco Malfoy had joked around with her in a way that didn't involve demeaning her. Even worse, she had laughed.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. She had stopped walking, and now they stood on a winding staircase, light from the tall windows floating lazily around them.

"Walking, Granger," he responded. "Or at least I was until you interrupted our jovial stroll."

"That," she said, pointing at him. "What was that? _Our_ _jovial stroll_?"

Malfoy pasted on a fake smile. "I'm only being polite."

"And why on earth would you ever be polite to me?"

Malfoy searched her face warily before sweeping his arms outward. "Fine. Miss smarty-pants saw through me. I thought a little banter would soften you up for what McGonagall wants."

Hermione considered him for a moment. "What you want."

"It's McGonagall—"

"No," she said. "It's you, or you wouldn't care so much about my response."

Malfoy exhaled loudly. "I suppose this is more honorable than having the old bag ask for me."

Hermione crossed her arms and waited, blowing a frizzy curl out of her face.

Looking in pain, he rubbed his temples.

"I need a tutor," he finally forced out.

"A tutor? Why would I ever agree to that?" she asked, anger bubbling inside.

Malfoy pushed a hand through his hair. "I don't want everyone to know," he said. "That rules out Theo or anyone else in my house. Padma is smart, but couldn't keep her mouth shut. You're obviously...bright, and discrete thanks to tailing the Chosen One for years."

"You really want me as your tutor?" she asked. "A filthy mudblood?"

Shock filled his face, and somehow his skin turned even paler. Hermione considered punching him again, recalling how wonderful it had felt. Instead, she gripped her wand in her robes.

"Granger," he finally choked out after a moment. "I am—"

"Don't you dare try to apologize, you dirty snake" she shouted, blood rushing through her veins as if it were on fire.

Hermione took a step down the staircase, surprised at her own vitriolic response.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't going to apologize. I know what I did was unforgivable to you, but I was going to point out that my behavior over the years has at least improved. A brainwashed eleven-year-old's schoolyard taunts are hardly the same as a grown wizard's actions."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to calm her nerves.

"You're right," she said. "But that doesn't make this a good idea."

She tried to push past him.

"Granger, wait," he said, grabbing her arm— _that_ arm.

Terror filled her mind, muddying her thoughts. Malfoy took a look at her panicked face, then down to his grip that she couldn't look away from. Understanding flooded his features, and he dropped her arm as if it had cursed him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

Hermione tried to steady her thoughts. Malfoy was one of very few people to have seen the hideous thing. Had he touched it on purpose, flustering her to get her to agree? His blushing face indicated otherwise, but she couldn't be sure.

"Listen," he finally said. "I know you have absolutely no reason at all to care about my marks or about me, but I need this. My education over the past few years has been spotty at best. I haven't even had a wand for much of the past year.

"Surely the Dark Lord had spare wands for his disarmed followers," Hermione spat. "What with all the dead wizards and witches lying about."

Malfoy flinched. "He didn't trust my family. He didn't trust anyone, but especially not my father. That meant no wand for me unless necessary."

"I guess living with an egotistical despot isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Hermione was momentarily shocked at the words that had sprung from her mouth. She didn't speak without thinking first very often, but this bizarre conversation had gotten the better of her.

To further the peculiarness, Malfoy began laughing—not the sneering snigger he'd usually thrown her way, but a wheezing, grip-your-belly laugh that buckled his knees and sent him doubled over, sitting on a stair.

"It wasn't funny," said Hermione, annoyed. "It's sad."

Malfoy looked up at her with his eyes shining. "Yes it is," he gasped.

"No it's not."

He panted some more. "If I don't laugh, I'll scream, or worse: cry."

"You already are," Hermione said, pointing at his face where moisture had spilled onto his cheeks.

This sent him into further fits of laughter, and Hermione found the corners of her mouth turning upwards. She understood the sentiment of wanting to scream; embracing the absurd was so much easier, even if she couldn't manage it often.

"See, even stick-up-her-ass Granger thinks it's funny," he said, and she found him grinning at her.

"And here I thought we were being friendly," Hermione said, frowning again.

"Oh, come off it," said Malfoy, waving a hand through the air. "I call my best friends much worse than that."

"Some friend you are."

"I wouldn't expect a bloody Gryffindor to understand."

Grasping the wall, Malfoy forced himself upwards before Hermione could respond.

"Well, I'll go inform McGonagall to prepare the paperwork for Azkaban," he said. "Only a matter of time until I flunk out of school."

"Wait—what?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Forgive my dramatics, but the manor may as well be Azkaban now. It's tainted with enough dark magic to kill off a century of summers."

Dust floated between them, suspended in the sunshine slanting through the windows.

"They'd really make you go back there," she whispered. "After what happened?"

"Where else would I serve a house-arrest sentence except in my house?"

Hermione took in his gangly frame leaning against the stone wall. Any trace of laughter had fled. He looked resigned. Knowing Slytherins, he was probably manipulating her sense of kindness and duty, but even with that knowledge, she found she no longer wished him additional pain. She didn't trust him; she could understand him, though.

"Alright," she said quietly. "Which subjects are you failing?"

A smile bloomed across Malfoy's face, and he stared her down.

"There's that S.P.E.W. pity," he said.

"Listen, you manipulative, lying bastard," hissed Hermione. "If you make me regret this, you will find yourself hexed into oblivion, and no one will be the wiser that I had anything to do with it. You will treat me respectfully, and you will perform your Head Boy duties without complaint and with fervor. Are we clear?"

Malfoy threw up his hands. "Yes, yes."

"Good," Hermione said, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just been bested. "Now does McGonagall really need to see us?"

"After you," Malfoy said, gesturing up the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the follows and reviews! I enjoy writing this, and I'm happy to know others are enjoying reading it.

Chapter 6

Hermione and Malfoy's meeting with McGonagall was brief. Gabby Goyle had regained consciousness, but could remember little from the attack. Her alibi for being out after curfew had been corroborated by her Ravenclaw boyfriend, and Hermione had newfound respect for Hannah Abbot's gossip sources.

"I have no reason to suspect anyone at this moment," the headmistress said. "I can only ask students to be on high alert and for prefects to strongly impress upon their wards the importance of curfews."

"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione said.

"You will of course inform me if you learn of anything."

They both nodded.

"Excellent," the older woman nodded. "With that out of the way, I would like to ask Ms. Granger if—"

"I've already asked her," interjected Malfoy.

"Oh?" McGonagall cast a surprised look at Hermione. "And yet you retain all of your limbs?"

Hermione forced a smile, remembering how close she had been to considering violence.

"Yes, Headmistress," she said. "I'll tutor him."

"However did you manage that?" McGonagall asked, turning to Malfoy.

"Must be the Slytherin charm."

"Good, good. Well, if that's out of the way, you can run along."

Hermione understood her need to usher them along; the headmistress had yet to find a suitable professor for Muggle Studies and had continued teaching Transfiguration herself. Coupled with the repairs to the castle, she simply didn't have time for idle chatter.

Despite the continued gossip swirling around Gabby Goyle, Hermione managed to ignore the questioning looks and focus on her classwork. The day flew by in a swirl of Arithmancy and Runes that naturally bled into an extended study session in the library. More older students had been joining her amongst the stacks of books than in years past due to mild widespread panic about the effects a botched year would have on OWLs and NEWTs, but tonight most of the student body had fled outdoors for the first quidditch match of the year.

"You need to see the sunshine," Ginny had said. "You're paler than me, and I'm a bloody ginger."

"I'll watch your first game," Hermione had said. "I've just got too much to do."

Now Hermione wondered if she could somehow wiggle out of that promise. The library was deliciously quiet, and she had no desire to watch a game she cared little for, that only brought back memories of the two friends she missed most.

Shoving aside a particularly vexing runes translation, Hermione unfolded the letter that had arrived a day earlier.

 _Hermione,_

 _Hope everything is going well at Hogwarts. We've been on the trail of a nasty bloke. Left a booby trapped house behind that nearly took my head off when we first walked in. Not much time for writing, but wanted to let you know we're alright. Tell Ginny hello._

 _Ron_

Five sentences. Harry's last letter had taken up three pages. Not that Hermione expected much more from Ron. He had always been...brief. It didn't help that things between them had been awkward since the final battle. The urgency of their romance had deflated with the absence of immediate annihilation, which she found perversely funny: a maniacal overlord had fanned the flames of her love life.

Hermione had been nervous about returning to school alone, knowing that it could distance the two of them even more, but she couldn't skip her final exams. She'd never forgive herself if she did. Ron could wait.

"Mooning over the boyfriends?"

Shoving the letter under her book, Hermione looked up to find Malfoy perched on a nearby table, coolly examining her.

"What in the—what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I thought you'd be happy your pupil is studying."

"You're not studying."

"Neither are you."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She wanted to spit back a biting retort, but even more, she didn't want to argue with _him_. She flipped open her runes book.

"Malfoy, please leave me alone."

"We never scheduled our next date."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned away from her translation.

"I'm not on patrol duty this week," she said.

"No, but you did agree to tutor me."

"Is that why you haven't lost your temper yet?"

His eyes shot daggers at her, but he didn't respond.

"Impressive," she said. "I didn't know you could hold your tongue."

"Now you're just asking for it," he muttered.

Frowning, Hermione finally realized just how odd his presence was.

"Shouldn't you be at the game?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not interested."

"But Slytherin is playing."

"So?"

Hermione huffed. "How are they going to play without their seeker?"

"I'm not on the team anymore," he said nonchalantly.

"Are you saying that Draco Malfoy didn't make the team?" she laughed.

Malfoy frowned, and Hermione felt a little guilty. She suddenly remembered her younger self snottily telling Harry that at least he didn't have to buy his way onto the team. She cringed, hoping Malfoy wasn't thinking of the same thing.

"I didn't try out this year," he said.

Unsure of what to say, Hermione twirled the quill in her hand while she thought. "Well, that's odd."

Shrugging, Malfoy slumped further back onto the desk. "I haven't flown in some time."

"Except when we saved you."

Malfoy glared. "Yes, except for that."

Hermione smiled brightly. "Well, since you've already interrupted my studying—"

"Boyfriend. Not me."

"—we may as well get started. Did you bring your books?"

Malfoy sighed and pulled a sleek leather bag from behind him.

"Excellent. Where would you like to begin?" she asked.

He dumped his textbooks next to hers.

"Potions," he said without hesitation.

"You were always competent in Potions. I'd say you need more help in Transfiguration."

"You asked where I wanted to begin. Potions."

Hermione noticed his set jaw and the twitch of a vein in his forehead.

"You seem rather passionate about that," she observed. "Care to share why?"

"Why does it matter? You said you'd help, now help."

By the time other students began trickling in from the game, they had discussed the theoretical aspects of seven potions and their ingredients. Not that she would admit it to Malfoy, but Hermione had needed the refresher on the uses and effects of reign-root. More impressively, he had only resorted to snide comments twice during their study session.

"Are you free again on Thursday?" Malfoy asked as they packed up their books.

Hermione paused. She had never imagined hearing such words directed at her from him, even if they were completely platonic. The shocking part was how civil they were.

"Yes," she finally said. "After dinner?"

"Alright."

With the click of the lock on his bag, Malfoy turned to leave.

"You're welcome," said Hermione.

Malfoy paused. "Thanks," he muttered.

Before he could leave, the trill voice of the headmistress echoed through the castle.

"All students to their dormitories at once. Prefects will conduct head counts and report to my office in pairs immediately."

Hermione met Malfoy's worried glance.

"That can't be good," she said.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note** : Sorry for the cliffhanger! Thank you for all the kind words and follows. I found out some bad news about a family member's health today. I needed something to distract me, so here's the next chapter sooner than I was planning. Thank goodness for distractions, or I'd go crazy.

Chapter 7

Hermione found Gryffindor Tower in chaos.

"Mione!"

Ginny appeared at her side, her eyes wide with worry.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," answered Hermione.

"It's another attack!" Fay Dunbar shrilled. "Luna found whoever it was!"

"Just like before," Dennis Creevey mumbled from the couch. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his arms wrapped around his legs.

Hermione frowned at her old roommate. Fay had never been one to keep her voice down. A glance around the room showed Gryffindors in various states of panic. So soon after the war, Hermione understood why their bravery might be lacking.

"Everyone quiet down," she shouted.

The silence that followed shocked her. This was Harry's territory. Hermione still wasn't used to being a leader.

"Right. Are all the prefects here?"

Six students stepped forward.

"Good," she continued. "Now you know the procedure for head counts. Once everyone is accounted for, I'll take Bell with me to the headmistress's office."

Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd, but they moved according to directions. Each prefect checked their assigned year of students, including Hermione who found the handful of seventh-agains with ease. For good measure, she cast a spell counting the number of persons in the room and felt relief when the correct number appeared above her wand.

"You heard McGonagall," Hermione said. "No one is to leave the tower. Prefects: I expect at least two of you to remain in the common room at all times to ensure compliance. Come on, Charlie."

Charlie Bell scrambled through the portrait hole after her. Only while walking through the eerily quiet halls did Hermione finally remember that she had chosen the prefect whose older sister had been attacked at the school only two years earlier.

"Drat, Charlie," said Hermione, glancing at the boy. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about Katie."

Charlie stared at his feet. "It's okay. At least she wasn't hurt permanently."

Hermione felt some guilt as she realized she had spent her evening with the person who had cursed Katie.

"Besides," Charlie added. "If you excluded anyone who was hurt in some way in the war, you wouldn't have anyone left to do anything."

Feeling the tug of comradery, Hermione blinked rapidly at her tears. Unable to do anything to help her situation, she had tried hard to keep at bay her biggest hurt: her parents. Knowing that she was surrounded by others who understood helped a bit.

"Thanks, Charlie."

In McGonagall's office, they found a handful of prefects looking on edge, and the headmistress in conversation with a balding red head.

"Mr. Weasley!" Hermione said, quickly crossing the room to hug the man.

"Hermione! Thank Merlin you're safe. Everyone in Gryffindor accounted for?"

"Yes. What's going on?"

Arthur Weasley glanced at the headmistress. "I'm here on Ministry business. To look into the series of attacks."

"Series," repeated Hermione. "So there's been another?"

"I'm afraid so," McGonagall said.

Charlie Bell stepped forward. "Who?" he demanded.

"Hestia Carrow."

Charlie reddened, then ducked back with the other prefects.

"Another Slytherin," Hermione said. "Did she see her attacker?"

"Unfortunately, the severity of Miss Carrow's injuries required an induced sleep," McGonagall said.

"Headmistress, this can't be a coincidence," Hermione said. "Two Slytherins. Both of them connected to prominent Death Eaters."

Mr. Weasley grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her further away from the other students. She couldn't help but glance up at the portrait of Slytherin's last headmaster and wonder what he would think of the attacks. Portrait Snape looked rather bored.

"You're right, of course," Mr. Weasley whispered. "But we don't want to spread panic."

McGonagall had moved towards them. "Miss Granger, you know that we are trying to foster a sense of unity amongst the students. Such allegations would only further the divide."

"It's not as if others won't make the connection."

"Of course, but that is why I am asking you to further your efforts."

"I'm already tutoring one of them," Hermione pointed out.

"There is more than one Slytherin," said McGonagall.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Headmistress."

"Now," McGonagall said, turning to the other students. "I must speak with Mr. Weasley. Please return to your dormitories. All prefects are relieved of their patrol duties for the night."

The students shuffled down the winding stairs at the back of the room. Hermione caught sight of a puff of blonde hair tied back with a necktie. She caught her friend's arm.

"Did you really find her?" she asked Luna.

"Oh yes," her friend replied. "Not long after we left Professor Slughorn's postgame party."

Hermione pursed her lips. "So, in the dungeons."

"Yes. Why weren't you there? I hope a wheezle-mick hasn't given you a cold."

"What? No, Luna. I'm not sick. I just don't care for his little club."

"Oh, because he's head of Slytherin."

By now they stood in the hallway with only Charlie Bell and Michael Corner chatting a few feet away waiting for their counterparts. Hermione was grateful that the trembling Slytherin prefects had disappeared. How like Malfoy to send the youngest of his prefects out into the night.

"It's not because of Slytherin," spat Hermione. "It's because I find the idea of collecting elite students like prizes disgusting."

Luna gave a small smile. "If you say so. Everyone else thinks otherwise, and I know McGonagall wouldn't want that."

Hermione searched Luna's face. She wasn't sure if the girl was capable of such manipulation. Sighing, she shoved her bushy hair out of her face.

"Of course you're right," Hermione muttered. "When is the next _gathering_?"

"He said something about Halloween. We should be getting our invitations soon."

"Halloween? But Harry will be here," Hermione sighed.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love to attend Slug Club again."

"Right," said Hermione, giving her friend another skeptical look. Luna was either very naive, or a master of sarcasm. "Well, good night."

"Good night, Hermione."

Luna floated down the hallway, followed by Michael.

"Oh, I almost forgot" Luna said, turning back. "I'm very glad your Hufflepuff girlfriend wasn't the one attacked, Charlie."

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared around the corner.

"I...I…" Charlie stuttered, his face beet red.

"It's alright," said Hermione, patting him on the back. "She does that to everyone."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Halloween morning dawned gray and drizzly. A week earlier, Hermione had enjoyed a bright day strolling through Hogsmeade with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. She had even been able to mostly forget about her homework and the frustrating tutoring sessions with Malfoy. The ferret had upheld his end of the deal and kept his mouth shut for the most part—except when Hermione had let it slip that Harry, and only Harry, would be visiting for Halloween.

"You mean _Mr. Savior of the Wizarding World_ can make time in his busy schedule to visit, but your boyfriend who can barely grip a wand can't bother to make an appearance?" he asked with a smirk.

"He's not my boyfriend," she spat. "Not exactly. And I thought you didn't know which of the _demented duo_ I was dating."

Malfoy shrugged. "It's impossible to avoid overhearing gossip in this castle. Especially about you."

All textbooks and assignments were forgotten as Hermione grilled Malfoy on what exactly he had heard about her. After much obvious satisfaction on his part, Hermione realized he had either lied to irk her, or he had heard something but would never tell.

"You're insufferable," she huffed.

He grinned.

Heading down to breakfast, Hermione swore she would shove his head in a floating pumpkin if he said a word about her reunion with Harry.

Ginny had nearly slept in the common room waiting for Harry to arrive, so Hermione wasn't surprised to see the her glued to Harry's side when she spotted them at Ravenclaw's old table, surrounded by friends. With his back to the door, Harry couldn't see Hermione, but Malfoy could. Sitting only a table over from her friends, he caught her eye with a smirk as she passed by. Hermione jutted out her chin in defiance and tapped her friend on the shoulder.

"Harry?"

"Hermione!"

Harry swiveled around and wrapped his arms around her. Hermione felt an empty spot in her heart fill; she had lived with the man for months, had grown used to always having him around. His familiar smell filled her senses, and she realized with a jolt just how off-kilter she had felt without him around. As they separated, Harry beamed at her.

"I've missed you," he said.

Hermione nodded, afraid to speak. Instead she took a seat next to Luna and pretended to read the Daily Prophet on the table—"RETALIATORY ATTACKS ON SLYTHERINS AT HOGWARTS: WOULD BE DEATH EATERS OR INNOCENTS?" McGonagall must have loved seeing that.

Harry caught her eye and looked ready to ask if she was alright, but Luna interrupted, much to Hermione's relief.

"I was just telling Harry that you agreed to attend Professor Slughorn's party tonight," said Luna.

Harry turned to Hermione. "You can't be serious about going."

"Inter-house unity and all," she said with a shrug. "Besides, aren't you Ginny's date?"

"What?" Harry whipped his attention to his girlfriend.

Ginny held up her hands. "Hermione said I had to go!"

"I said it would be kind of you," Hermione said. "I never ordered you."

"I'm surprised McGonagall's letting it happen at all," Padma piped in from down the table. "Hestia Carrow was attacked leaving the last one."

"Well she had it coming to her," said Ernie from next to her.

"Ernie!" Padma scolded.

"What else could she expect?" Ernie asked. "Coming back after what her cousins did."

From behind her, Hermione heard the clatter of silverware as someone hit the table. Turning, she found Theo Nott on his feet, fists clenched on the table and eyes boring into Ernie.

"And what would you recommend two fifteen-year-olds who can't legally practice magic do?" Theo said evenly. "Their parents and most family members are currently locked away and can do nothing to help them. Their home was blown to pieces—"

"Theo," Malfoy said quietly beside him. "Just leave it."

"No!" shouted Theo. "They're all wishing harm on a fifth year to whom they've never bothered speaking."

Hermione was so shocked to hear the usually quiet man yell, that she could only stare.

"I never wished harm—" Ernie said.

"Oh no?" spat Theo. "Maybe you've just done it."

Horrified glances moved back and forth between the two. Ernie had turned purple.

"I would never—"

"Now what's all this?" Professor Slughorn waddled between the two tables. His buggy eyes swept over the scene. "Nothing more than an innocent quarrel, I hope."

Malfoy stood suddenly. "Of course not, Professor. We were leaving."

He tugged on Theo's robes. For a moment, Hermione feared that the darker haired man wouldn't budge, but Malfoy whispered something to him, and he finally followed his friend from the hall.

"Well, now that that's settled," Slughorn said, "I can say hello to Harry Potter!"

Harry forced a smile as the man patted him on the back.

"Heard you'll be attending my little get together, tonight," the older man said with a smile.

"Uh, right," said Harry, shooting a pained look at Ginny.

"Good, good. Our numbers are a little short, what with the Carrows unable to attend. Although," he whispered, leaning in conspiratorially, but still speaking loudly enough for Hermione to hear, "Between you and I, the twins have only been invited due to McGonagall's insistence. Can't say the others will miss the reminder of last year."

The injustice of his words stoked the annoyance Hermione had felt at Ernie's pigheaded words. Ernie was supposed to be a little thick headed; a professor should know better. Before she could rationally examine what she was doing, Hermione stood.

"Professor," she said. "Is it too late to RSVP for a plus one?"

"Oh, of course not. Anything for you, dear."

Hermione plastered a smile on her face. "Lovely. See you tonight."

Ignoring the confused looks of her friends, Hermione plucked a folded parchment from Harry's pocket and strode out of the hall. Once alone, she tapped the faded paper with her wand.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she whispered.

She had owled Harry the day after Hestia's attack, asking him to bring the Marauder's Map. Despite feeling strongly that such a device was an invasion of privacy and an obvious breach of the rules, Hermione couldn't deny its usefulness.

The labels reading _Draco Malfoy_ and _Theodore Nott_ were floating towards the dungeons. She took off down a stairwell, hoping they were headed to Potions early and not their common room.

Shoving the map away, she stumbled upon them sitting outside the classroom.

"Hi," she said, lamely.

Theo stared at his hands. Malfoy looked at her as if she had grown another head.

"Uh, hello, Granger," Malfoy said.

"Look, I'm sorry about all that up there," she said.

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy stood. "If that's all, I think you can run along now."

He was nearly leaning over her now, but she refused to take a step back.

"Actually, I have something else to ask you," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Whether you looked pathetic crying over your non-boyfriend? I thought you'd never ask," he said with a sadistic smile.

Hermione gritted her teeth. He wasn't making this easy.

"No," she said after a moment. "I wanted to ask you to Professor Slughorn's Halloween party this evening."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up and he took a step backwards, as if she had slapped him. He covered his surprise quickly and folded his arms over his chest.

"As much as I'm flattered by your desperation to fill the void in your love life, I'd rather stay away from places where I'm not welcome. It's not exactly a secret that Slughorn doesn't like my kind."

"But that's just it," said Hermione. "You have to go because you're not welcome."

"That makes no sense."

From the ground, Theo sighed. "She wants to use you to make a point."

"What point?" asked Malfoy. "It's not like there won't be other Slytherins there. Even Theo's going."

"I wasn't a Death Eater," Theo shot back.

Malfoy looked as if he would hex the man. "Your father was."

"Slughorn said the only reason he invited the Carrow twins was because McGonagall told him to," Hermione blurted.

"And I'm sure I'm no different," said Theo. "But being an actual Death Eater, not just the son of one, is too much for the old bastard."

Hermione pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before speaking. "I know you don't care for the man, but I think it's just the sort of thing the school needs to see after two obvious attacks on Death Eaters' relatives."

Malfoy looked uneasy, then his mouth twitched up at the corner. "Oh, I see. I'm your next little house elf project. _Save the Death Eaters now that they're the scum of the earth_. Although, that's a bit of a lengthy acronym."

Theo snorted.

"I know," Malfoy continued. "How about _Fighting Under...Crazy_ —"

"That's enough," said Hermione.

"Can't take a little joke, Granger?" he asked.

Hermione had spent years helping elves who did not want to be helped. She wasn't about to give up.

"I think it's wrong what Ernie said and very wrong what Professor Slughorn said," she replied. "If you'd rather lash out at someone trying to help than to do something about it, that's your decision."

"I don't need your pity, Granger," he said coolly.

Hermione felt her jaw clench. "It's not pity. It's what's right. If this is how we treat others, we're no better than…"

"Than what? A bunch of bloody Death Eaters?"

She looked him in the eye. "Yes."

A lock of platinum hair fell across his face, but he didn't move. He only stared. Hermione refused to twitch a single muscle. If this was some sort of power game, she was going to win.

Just as she was doubting her strategy, Malfoy turned to his friend.

"You're going?" he asked Theo.

"Yeah."

"Fine, I'm in," Malfoy said. Then he leered at her. "Don't forget to tell Ronny about our little date. I would hate for him to find out that you've been seeing other men from anyone else."

"Shut it," she mumbled. "I'll meet you there."

Before he could say anything else, she pushed past him into the Potions classroom.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I've had some technical difficulties getting this chapter up, so sorry for the problems. I'll try to keep updating at least once a week. Thanks again for the follows and such!

Chapter 9

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione pasted on a smile. "Professor Slughorn. This is some party."

The Potion Master's quarters had been transformed into a sparkling haunt, complete with two bubbling chocolate fountains and glitter-dusted bats enchanted to dive within inches of partygoers' heads before darting away.

"Good, good! Where's this date you were so eager to bring?" asked Slughorn.

"Getting drinks," Hermione said over the shrieks and yelps of the Weird Sisters album playing—Slughorn had obviously tried to be hip with his party's theme tonight.

Before the professor could respond, Malfoy's pale head of hair appeared next to her.

"Here," he said, shoving a sloshing glass of amber liquid into her hand.

"Oh, Malfoy," Slughorn said, his smile faltering beneath his bulging eyes.

"Professor," said Malfoy before taking a sip of his drink and looking away.

"I've been tutoring Draco," Hermione said, ignoring Malfoy's frown at the mention of his given name. "I hope you've noticed a difference in his work."

The old man looked Malfoy up and down, his eyes lingering on his left arm that was covered by the long sleeve of a gray sweater. When Hermione realized exactly what the professor was looking at, her face burned. She understood aversion to the Dark Mark—she even understood not wanting to be chummy with someone sporting one—but the man who had placed it was dead. Even before Voldemort's fall, Malfoy had acted regretful and was obviously coerced by his family to some degree. That didn't make him any less of a ferret, but being insufferable didn't excuse blanket discrimination.

Hermione couldn't tell if Malfoy was tactfully ignoring Slughorn's gaze, or if he didn't notice, instead watching a group of students screech as Nearly Headless Nick rushed by in a wave of iciness.

"Happy deathday!" shouted Michael Corner to the ghost.

Nick turned back and tipped his head off his spinal column. "Thank you, my boy! Always heartwarming to be remembered."

"Yes," Slughorn finally said bringing back Hermione's attention. "You've both improved over the past weeks. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Waddling away, the man shot furtive glances around the room as if more unsavory characters were waiting to pounce.

" _Draco_?" drawled Malfoy.

Hermione flipped her braid over her shoulder. "Oh, shut up."

"Really, Granger? That your go-to comeback now?"

Before she could answer, an orange bat swooped by. Malfoy ducked.

"Bloody hell," he yelped.

"Afraid?" mocked Hermione.

"Of filthy rats flying through the air? Yes," he said. "Do you know how many diseases they spread?"

Hermione shook her head, laughing.

"Rabies, ebola, SARS, among others," he ticked off.

"How do you know that?"

"Who doesn't? And we're letting the plagued things fly around for sport."

"Really," pressed Hermione. "Those diseases aren't common around here. How do you know so much about them?"

Malfoy took a sip of butterbeer before speaking.

"I make it my business to be well-informed."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"And to focus on the NEWT class most important to healers, even though you obviously detest the man teaching it," she said.

Malfoy glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. From across the room, Luna waved when she saw him looking around.

"Why does it matter to you?" he growled.

"I suppose it doesn't," Hermione shrugged. "But I don't understand the secrecy. It's a noble profession."

Malfoy scoffed. "Which is why St. Mungo's might not be keen on letting me become one."

Frowning, Hermione sipped at her drink, mulling over his predicament.

"You were listing non-magical diseases earlier," she said.

"Healers are trained to recognize and sometimes treat non-magical ailments," said Malfoy. "Even wizards catch common colds."

"You could always train as a muggle doctor," Hermione mused. "Get your foot in the door practicing medicine to convince St. Mungo's to take you on as an apprentice."

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Very funny, Granger. Spend my time casting broken bones like it's the dark ages?"

"You know how muggles treat broken bones?" she asked.

Malfoy's face pinched in annoyance.

"So?" he spat.

"You're serious about becoming a healer," she said. "You've been studying."

"Keep it to yourself, would you?" said Malfoy with a pained look.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Please, Granger."

"Fine, fine," she said, turning slightly away.

They observed the room for a moment. The smell of chocolate and cider hung heavy in the air. To their left, laughter rose above the music, and Hermione could hear Harry among the group. She wanted to disappear with her friend to the quietest corner of the castle they could find so that she could pick his brain about his latest assignments as an auror. Too many people here wanted his attention, and she had to deal with babysitting Malfoy. Once again, she cursed the potions professor and his stupid club.

"What's going on there?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione followed his gaze to the center of the room where several students had began dancing, including Luna with a nervous looking Theo.

"No idea," said Hermione.

Both tipped back their drinks.

"Regretting your choice of date?" he asked.

"You served your purpose," she smirked.

"But now you have the plague."

Hermione shrugged. She felt a little relieved that few people had bothered speaking to her tonight.

"It's your turn," said Malfoy after a moment.

"What?"

"What are your plans after Hogwarts?" he asked.

Suddenly feeling very warm, Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. She had known for years that she wanted to continue improving the lives of house elves and other abused creatures after her formal education ended—but that had been the dream of a fourteen-year-old. How would she actually enact change? Earn money to pay bills? And how would the mess with her parents and relationship with Ron influence it all?

"I don't know," she said.

"Hermione Granger without a plan?" said Malfoy. "What horror."

Hermione drained the last of her drink and thrust the empty cup back at Malfoy.

"I've had enough horror for one night," she said.

Stopping only to let Harry know where he could find her, Hermione swept from the room without a glance backwards.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Hermione?"

Bolting upright, Hermione nearly collided with the form hovering over her. She took a moment to remember falling asleep in the common room. They fire had died down to almost nothing, and all other lights had been extinguished. Just enough moonlight drifted over the scarlet armchairs and couches to reveal that the rest of the house had long ago gone to bed.

"Merlin, Harry," she gasped. "How late is it?"

"Sorry. Ginny wanted to talk."

Taking in his messy hair and satisfied grin, Hermione very much doubted he felt sorry about what he and Ginny had done. Hermione rubbed her eyes.

"I'm used to being friends with a celebrity," she said.

That wiped away Harry's smile.

"Ginny told me about the attacks," he said, humor gone. He plopped onto the couch next to her.

"Yes. Two Slytherins. Both related to Death Eaters."

"Some sort of revenge?" asked Harry.

"Most likely. The question is whether it's a student or someone sneaking in from outside of the castle. That could change the scope of what we're dealing with."

"Thus, the map."

Hermione nodded.

"Have you come across anything like this out there?" Hermione asked. "Vigilante justice?"

Harry shrugged. "Most of the time former Death Eaters and their ilk are difficult to find, meaning no one can get to them until the aurors do. There have been a few cases of Voldemort sympathizers turning up dead without our involvement. We've had difficulty determining the cause of death. They may have been killed by their own for ratting out others in hopes of saving themselves, or it could have been accidental while receiving back alley potions to change their appearance or something like that. We don't know."

Hermione nodded. In the moonlight, she couldn't read her friend's expression clearly, but he seemed content enough. Talking to Harry again—scheming and sleuthing—felt wonderful to her. She guessed he had missed it, too.

"How do you like it out there?" she asked.

Harry looked up at her and grinned. "It's brilliant. Not always easy, but everything I thought it would be. It's amazing how rewarding work like that can be—especially when your life isn't constantly on the line."

"Only occasionally," she said.

He met her smile. "Of course."

They watched the smoldering embers in silence before Harry spoke again.

"We miss you out there," he said.

Hermione sighed. "I know you do."

Looking panicked, Harry shifted on the couch. "Ron is—well, you know…"

"It's alright, Harry," said Hermione, grabbing his hand. "You don't have to apologize for his actions."

"That is usually your job," Harry said.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, that's pitiful."

"You're a good friend."

" _Friend_ ," she repeated. "Is that what he said?"

"No—I didn't mean anything—"

"It's alright, Harry," she cut him off, taking back her hand. "I didn't mean to drag you into the middle of it. Things have just been awkward between us since the battle, and I don't see them getting better if he keeps avoiding me."

Harry sighed. "Ron has never been very good at confronting things head on."

Hermione studied her fingers for a moment.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"You'd tell me if he had...moved on, right?"

Harry draped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"Of course," he said. "I'd much rather face the end of his wand than yours."

"Thank you," mumbled Hermione. She forced a laugh. "Now, let's talk about something besides my pathetic love life."

"Alright, have you seen your parents since school started?" Harry asked.

Groaning, Hermione pushed him away.

"Anything but that," she said.

"Mione—"

"I really don't want to talk about them," she said, refusing to look at him.

"Mione, I know how you deal with things like this," continued Harry, ignoring her. "Burying yourself in books and work won't fix their memories, and it won't help you feel better."

Hermione covered her face. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't, or she may never stop. Taking a deep breath, she was finally able to face her friend.

"This is what makes me feel better," she said. "If I can't do anything to help them remember, then I have to distract myself, or I'll go insane."

Searching her face, Harry didn't look convinced, but he finally nodded.

"Alright," he said. "I trust that you'll ask for help if you need it."

"Of course, Harry."

He gave her a skeptical look.

"I promise!" she said.

"Okay, okay. Now what's this about you hanging around Malfoy?"

"Who told you that?"

"Half the school," said Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I can't exactly avoid Head Boy. McGonagall wants to foster inter-house unity."

"By making you work with that tosser?"

"He's not so bad anymore," she said. "At least not with the threat of being thrown under house arrest at the first word from the headmistress."

"Ginny said you're tutoring him."

Hermione shrugged. "It's not exactly enjoyable, but he needs help."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "And you're willing to forget everything he's done? Especially to you?"

Leaning her elbows on her knees, Hermione propped her head on her hands. She didn't know how to explain this to her friend. Hermione had always been a champion of an underdog. Even at a young age she had noticed inequalities and fought for justice, whether it was someone taking too many cookies during snack time at preschool, thus leaving not enough for others, or entire classes of people and creatures treated as inferior by the wizarding world. By some strange twist of fate, Malfoy was now the underdog. She wasn't sure exactly when she'd started viewing him that way, but she no longer saw the horrendous pureblood first-year who had tormented her.

"We're all influenced by those who raise us," Hermione began. "Your head was crammed full of nonsense about being worthless and a freak, but you fought against that. You found who you really are."

She glanced at Harry. He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"I can only imagine what Malfoy's parents told him," she said. "Look at what they made him do. You found him in the girls bathroom breaking down. You saw that he couldn't kill Dumbledore. You told the Wizengamot that he recognized you at his house, but wouldn't tell his aunt. Yes—he may still hold some ill-informed views about people like me, but he keeps them to himself, and he doesn't harm anyone. At least not since the cursed necklace, as far as I know."

Harry shifted. "That doesn't mean you have to associate with him," he said.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know what it's like out there, but people are acting like anyone remotely related to a Death Eater is unworthy of breathing the same air as the rest of us," she said. "It's despicable and completely hypocritical. It's exactly how Voldemort treated muggle-borns. Hestia Carrow didn't torture students last year, and she shouldn't be looked upon as less-than because someone she's related to did. Malfoy is still a bit of a git, but by treating him courteously I'm showing others that I'm ready to move on. I've had enough of Voldemort's divisions."

"Did McGonagall put you up to it?" Harry asked.

"Yes—and I wasn't happy about it to begin with. I've come around to her line of reasoning."

"That's fair," Harry said. "But I'm glad I don't have to do it."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure you or Ron would have hexed Malfoy within the first week of school."

"He's lucky only you came back, then."

This wiped away Hermione's good mood, reminding her that Harry would be gone in the morning.

 _Only you came back_.

Only she was alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Surprise! Extra chapter this week.

Chapter 11

While Hermione was glad to have Harry visit, she felt his absence more acutely than before when he left to join the aurors again.

Hermione was not the only one.

"Why is the sun shining so brightly?" groaned Ginny from her bed.

"Come on," Hermione said, pulling at her friend's covers. "You'll be late for Charms."

"It's too sunny."

"You'd be miserable if it was raining. The sun isn't keeping him away."

Ginny snarled and buried her face in her pillow.

They'd had three days of this, and Hermione wasn't sure how much more she could take.

"Come on, Gin," she said. "Hogsmeade tomorrow. You don't want to miss because Flitwick gave you detention for skipping class."

"Like that midget would ever dare," mumbled her friend.

"Ginny!" Hermione scolded.

By the time the two stumbled into the Charms classroom, they were five minutes late.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione muttered as they took their seats.

Ginny did not look contrite.

"Fine, fine, ladies," the professor said. "I'm sure you won't let it happen again. Now let's get back to the lesson."

As Flitwick demonstrated bewitched sleep on Terry Boot, Malfoy tossed a crumpled parchment from several seat away onto Hermione's desk.

"Bugger off!" hissed Ginny.

Hermione grabbed the paper before her friend could set it aflame with her wand.

"Really, Ginny," she whispered. "The world isn't ending."

Hermione opened the note.

 _We need to talk after the old windbag is done. Meet in the library?_

No one showed professors respect anymore, Hermione thought.

Looking up, she found Malfoy staring at her expectantly. She nodded, and he sat back in his seat. On her other side, Hermione heard a scoff.

"Flirting with the enemy," someone muttered.

Hermione whipped around to find Ernie MacMillan whispering with fellow Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"You don't know what you're talking about," muttered Hermione, feeling her face flush. "I suggest you keep such uninformed opinions to yourself, if you know what's good for you."

"Threatening me?" Ernie shot back. "How very Slytherin of you."

"Shut your badger snout," Ginny said, pointing her wand and looking very happy at the prospect of using it.

"Everything alright?"

The three looked up to find Flitwick and the entire class staring at them.

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, forcing Ginny's arm down. "Just a misunderstanding."

When class finally ended, Ernie jostled past Hermione and Ginny to get through the door.

"Traitor."

Hermione barely heard the word over the scuffle of shoes and books.

"Git!" Ginny screamed down the hallway.

"Calm down, Gin," Hermione said. "Why don't you take out your feelings on some bludgers? See if the pitch is open."

Scowling, Ginny stomped away towards the common room.

"I'll bludger your ass," she muttered.

"What was that Gin?"

The redhead only glared before disappearing around the corner.

"Someone needs to get laid," a cool voice said behind Hermione.

Hermione turned reluctantly, knowing she'd find a Slytherin ready to spar.

"I'd prefer if we didn't discuss my friend's sex life."

"Well, Potter obviously isn't doing a very good job of it," Malfoy said. "Or his girlfriend would be happier when he left."

"Or maybe he's so good that she—" Hermione cut herself off. "No, wait. I'm not discussing this. It's disgusting. Are we going to the library or not?"

Malfoy began walking down the hall, and she followed.

"You find sex disgusting?" he asked. "How very sad. Ronny must not be very good."

Hermione tightened her grip on her books.

"We are _not_ discussing this," she repeated.

"That bad, huh?"

"Listen, you little ferret—"

"Easy, easy," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm only making polite conversation."

"If that's your idea of polite conversation, then I'd hate to hear you being crude."

Malfoy grinned. "So you don't want me to talk dirty to you?"

Gritting her teeth, Hermione forced air slowly in and out of her nose. After a moment, she could finally speak calmly.

"Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me?" she asked as they entered the library, "Or are you starved for female company?"

"Ooh, nice one," he said. "Not the best I've heard, but from goody two-shoes Granger, it's a start."

"Malfoy—"

"Fine! I'll stop," he said as they dumped their books onto a table and sat.

"What's got you all worked up?" asked Hermione.

"What was MacMillan's problem in class?"

"You didn't answer."

He tapped his fingers on the table, considering her.

"My answer is longer," he said. "You first."

Hermione sighed, but didn't feel like arguing. "Ernie didn't like you passing notes to me."

"Jealous, is he?" Malfoy said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Merlin—Ginny isn't the only one who needs to get laid," she said. "Is everything going to be full of innuendo today?'

"I didn't you know cared about my poor sex life. I'm touched, Granger."

"Not touched enough," she muttered before thinking. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Ha! Now who's throwing out the double entendres?" he accused.

Hermione rolled her eyes. First Ginny, and now this nuisance.

"Fine, fine," Malfoy said. "I'm done. But what exactly does Ernie expect you to do? Not talk to the Head Boy?"

"That's why I don't really care what that tosser thinks," Hermione said.

" _Shut your badger snout_ ," laughed Malfoy, repeating Ginny's earlier words. "Can't believe I never thought of that."

"Ginny can be rather creative in her foul moods," she said. "You know, you two are pretty similar."

Malfoy's eyes widened with shock.

"Are you comparing me to a Weasley?" he asked.

"It's not a bad thing. You're both talented on a broom and with a wand—"

Malfoy's eyebrows raised suggestively.

"—I'll ignore that," she continued. "You have long-winded tempers, and you're both loyal to your families."

"I don't know about that," Malfoy scowled. "I didn't exactly turn out how Daddy wished. But back to the problem of comparing me with a Weasel—"

"Oh, come off it," Hermione said. "Ginny's one of the most talented witches in school, and she's one of my best friends. I'm not comparing you to Ernie."

"I suppose it could be worse," said Malfoy, lounging back in his chair.

Hermione sighed, relieved that he seemed to be settling down.

"What did you want to talk with me about, anyway?" she asked. "Is it why you feel the need to verbally accost me?"

"Oh, Granger," he sneered. "You never miss the elephant in the room, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and waited. She'd dealt with an angry, aggressive Harry her entire fifth year at Hogwarts. She could handle a little sarcasm from Malfoy.

"It's MacMillan," Malfoy finally said. "Theo saw him sneaking around the dungeons last night. He thought it looked suspicious, and I agree."

"You think Ernie is behind the attacks?" asked Hermione, surprised.

Ernie was a bit of a tosser lately, but she couldn't imagine him attacking other students in the hallways. They had dueled one another in Dumbledore's Army, had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts together. Would he really stoop to this?

"He obviously doesn't care for me or my kind," Malfoy said.

"No, but would he really attack his classmates?"

"Someone is."

"We don't know if it's a student, or even a solitary person," Hermione pointed out.

"Great. So there could be an army of rabid badgers thirsty for revenge.

Hermione forced her racing thoughts to slow. She needed to study this, puzzle it out in her mind.

"The attacks haven't appeared very advanced in terms of spellwork or brawn, and gaining access to the school would be difficult—not that it hasn't been done before," she said with a pointed look at Malfoy.

He avoided her gaze.

"For now we should assume it's a student," she continued. "One or a group of students hurt by Voldemort and his followers. We could make a list of who has been wronged—"

"Who hasn't been wronged?" asked Malfoy, rubbing his palms in his eyes.

"Fair point, but I don't know where else to start."

"Maybe with following the one lead we do have?"

Hermione sighed. She didn't want to jump to hasty conclusions about Ernie, but what else could they do?

"I'll think about it—but we're still making a list."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Granger."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** As always, thank you for the kind words and follows! This chapter is a long one, but this little Hogsmeade adventure worked best all together. Enjoy!

Chapter 12

The first snow of the year dusted the ground as Hermione walked with Ginny and Luna to Hogsmeade.

"Harry said he'd try to make it to the match," said Ginny, decidedly much happier than she'd been in days. "Completely out of the blue! I didn't think I'd see him until Christmas."

"He's a gem," Hermione said, holding in a smile—she didn't want to ruin Ginny's good mood, or the owl Hermione had sent to Harry the day before would be for nothing.

"It's difficult to stay away from those we love for long," said Luna.

Ginny reddened. "No one said anything about love," she muttered.

"Of course not," Luna said. "I thought it was obvious."

Before Ginny could retort, Hermione interrupted.

"I've noticed you and Neville working together a lot recently," Hermione said to Luna.

"Oh, yes. He's very knowledgeable about the properties of certain plants, and I have a theory that nargles are repelled by gurdyroot."

"Fascinating," said Ginny with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Hermione elbowed her roommate and gave her a pointed look. Ginny rolled her eyes, but managed to keep her unpleasant thoughts to herself as they wandered the village shopping for Christmas presents.

"Is Peruvian Instant Dark Powder considered a sexy gift for a boyfriend?" Ginny asked, frowning at a box in her hand.

The girls were browsing the new location of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes that had opened at the defunct Zonko's in Hogsmeade only weeks earlier.

"Ew, Gin," said Hermione. "And no, I don't think it's very sexy."

Ginny threw up her hands and groaned.

"I dunno," the redhead huffed. "Maybe he can use it against bad guys. What else do you give the boy who saved the world _twice_? You've seen his house, covered in gifts from wizards all over the world thanking him. He has everything!"

Hermione hid her grin. She was glad she wasn't the Chosen One's girlfriend. Besides, Harry would never expect anything more from her than a book he probably wouldn't read.

"He'll love anything you give him," Luna said, popping up around a display of canary creams—well, most of her popping up, as her head had turned completely invisible.

Her hand reached above her decapitated body and plucked a hat off her head, returning her to her—mostly—normal state.

"Would you stop using that word!" hissed Ginny.

"What word?" Luna asked.

"Love," Hermione said, loudly.

Ginny's cheeks reddened, and Hermione braced herself for her friend's ire. Fortunately, a voice stole their attention.

"What's all this about my favorite little sister in love with some tosser?"

Turning, Ginny squealed and threw her arms around the tall man.

"George!" she shouted. "I thought you were in London until Christmas!"

He shrugged as he released her. "The new staff here had a problem with some exploding pasties, and I thought I should handle it myself."

George said hello to the other girls, and Hermione did her best to paste a smile on her face and act normal. If she had lost her other half, she would not appreciate the pitying looks she noticed on the faces of some of the shop's patrons. Not that the haggard looking man didn't deserve pity: dark circles lined his eyes, and his smile had lost that constant, mischievous smirk she'd grown to expect.

"You're coming to the Burrow for the holidays, right Hermione?" George asked, pulling her from her thoughts. "I reckon all that time spent away from a certain redhead has been more than you can bear."

He winked.

"I mean me, of course," he added, but they all knew who he really meant.

Panic rose in Hermione's chest. She'd been worrying about this, facing the Weasley's and all their expectations about what she and Ron were, when even she didn't know what they were.

"I—uh—can't be there this year," she finally spat out.

"George, you git," hissed Ginny before turning to Hermione. "You can't stay away just because Ron's being an idiot."

"No! It's not that," Hermione protested.

"Is something the matter with Ron?" Luna asked in her dreamy voice.

Hermione wanted to disappear, and seriously considered apparating on the spot. If this was a preview of a Weasley Christmas, she was definitely not going.

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione said. "There's simply too much to do here. McGonagall needs as much help as she can get."

Her redheaded companions looked ready to argue, but a pop and puff of smoke across the room stole their attention.

"What now?" George asked, striding over.

He stopped in his tracks, coughing and covering his nose.

"Alright," he shouted, "Who's set off the Demon Dung Cracker?"

Dennis Creevey stumbled through the smoke, his face blackened and hair charred. George looked ready to hex him, but softened when the kid vomited and collapsed on the floor.

"They really do smell awful," George said with only a hint of a smile. "You'll be smelling it for days setting it off that close to yourself. Let's get you back to Hogwarts."

A crowd bustled to the entrance alongside a green-faced Dennis. As Dennis's friends helped him down the street, a streak of platinum hair near the windows caught Hermione's attention.

"I really have to discuss some school business with the Head Boy," she said to Ginny, wanting to avoid any further discussion of the holidays.

Before Ginny could stop her, Hermione slipped away and dragged a surprised Malfoy out into the cold sunshine.

"I do usually prefer a hello before I'm manhandled," he muttered as she pulled him down the street and around the corner of the herbology shop.

She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring no one had followed her before dropping her hand from his elbow. Now that she had escaped, Hermione realized how closely she was standing to Malfoy, and took a step back.

"Sorry," she said.

"Apology accepted, Granger," he said. "Although I am curious what could be so urgent that you had to interrupt my gift shopping for my mother."

"Your mother?" Hermione scoffed. "Are you trying to kill her with shock or are you trying to get disowned by picking out her gift in a joke shop?"

"I assure you I wasn't purchasing a Weasley product for her."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Who are we hiding from?"

Hermione felt the annoyance rise in her stomach.

"Who said we were hiding?" she shot back, and thinking quickly pulled a parchment from her pocket. "I wanted to show you this."

Malfoy took the list and rolled his eyes—he obviously didn't believe this was her reason.

"And this will help us how?" he asked after a moment.

Hermione had spent the night making a list of people wronged by Death Eaters, but Malfoy had been right about every person in the castle having some sort of grievance with Voldemort, even many in Slytherin. But she had pressed on, focusing particularly on those who had lost a close family member.

"We had to start somewhere," she huffed.

"You know we need more than this if you really want to stop the attacks."

Hermione sighed. "I know."

"So how about that lead?" he asked.

"Ernie?"

"No, Looney Lovegood" he scoffed. "Of course Ernie! While you were hauling my ass down the street to avoid someone—and don't try to deny it—I watched our favorite little Hufflepuff enter Honeydukes."

"Honeydukes! He couldn't possibly know about…" Hermione trailed off, remembering her audience. Telling Malfoy about the secret passageway would lead to the Marauder's Map and the invisibility cloak and that time an invisible Harry had thrown snowballs at Malfoy's head. The tunnel was probably still blocked anyway. "Nevermind."

Malfoy frowned at her. "We can come back to that later, but I think we should see what MacMillan is up to."

Hermione sighed. "Fine."

They entered the shop quietly, easily ignored by the throngs of happy students whose chattering filled the small space. Hermione edged around a tall display of chocolate frogs, Malfoy following closely.

"Do you see him?" he whispered, pretending to examine a cauldron cake.

Hermione craned her neck around a tower of jelly slugs.

"Over there," she said, nodding her head in Ernie's direction.

The Hufflepuff was chatting with friends, all of them stuffing bags full of candy while they talked.

"He doesn't seem to be—" Hermione began.

"Draco?"

Hermione and Malfoy spun around to find two pretty witches staring at them. Hermione recognized the older one as Pansy Parkinson's bratty friend.

"Daphne?" Malfoy responded, moving to hug the slightly taller of the two girls who were obviously sisters. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting Astoria," she said as they released their brief embrace. Daphne flicked her gaze at Hermione. "What are you doing here?"

The question was meant for Malfoy, but Hermione knew it was all about her.

"Christmas shopping," Malfoy said without missing a beat or changing his expression.

These Slytherins, Hermione thought. Harry or Ron would have been beet red if caught spying, especially if working with an old enemy.

"I didn't know your mother enjoyed cauldron cakes," Daphne said cooly.

Malfoy shoved the treat back on the shelf. "I'll tell my mother to thank you when she opens her gift on Christmas."

Daphne forced a small smile and linked arms with her sister.

"Astoria was so glum when Father made her return to Hogwarts," Daphne said. "I hope you're looking out for her."

The younger witch gave a coy smile and looked up at Malfoy from under her dark eyelashes. Hermione could barely stop her eyes from rolling.

"I am Head Boy," Malfoy said. "I look out for all of our little snakes. It's been lovely bumping into you, Daphne. Astoria."

Malfoy gripped Hermione's elbow and steered her out of the shop. She was too surprised to do anything but follow—part of her had assumed he'd be embarrassed caught spending free time with her.

He didn't let go of her until they once again hid around the corner of the herbology shop. Malfoy glared at the trampled snow on the ground.

"So," Hermione said after a moment. "The Greengrass sisters want to eat you alive."

When he glanced up, Hermione caught the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I suppose you could say that," he said.

"Ex-girlfriend?" she asked. "Or is it worse? Ex-girlfriends?"

Malfoy groaned and shoved a hand through his hair. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not," Hermione shrugged. "But you did use me as a human shield to get away from them."

"So did you," he shot back.

Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms, considering him. She didn't know why, but she wanted to know what was going on with Malfoy and those tramps—even though she knew it was not fair of her to call them such, even in her mind.

"When I found you, I was ending an unpleasant conversation with Ginny and George Weasley, explaining that I would not be joining them at the Burrow for Christmas," Hermione said. "I had urgent Head Girl duties to discuss with you, of course."

Malfoy smirked. "Things still not going well with Ronny?"

"None of your business. Now what was that with the Greengrass duo of terror?"

His smile faded. For a moment Hermione thought he wouldn't tell her and regretted her honesty. Then he spoke.

"Something just short of an arranged marriage that our parents have been planning for decades."

"Arranged marriage?" Hermione nearly choked. "Purebloods still do that crap?"

"It's not a contract or anything like that. Mostly overbearing guilt from your parents."

"Either sister seemed more than willing."

"Yeah, well, as much as I love women throwing themselves at me, I prefer them to be defanged," he said before pausing to swallow and briefly glance at her. "I had hoped the whole Death Eater thing blowing up in my parents' faces would make their family wary of an alliance, but apparently nothing good has come out of my wasted time spent serving that lunatic."

" _Alliance_ ," repeated Hermione, shaking her head. "I don't get you people."

"The feeling is mutual, Granger, even if I do agree on this point."

They stood for a moment, listening to the sounds of their classmates laughing in the streets, clattering doors behind them as they ran through the shops.

Hermione frowned. "Well, we didn't learn much about Ernie, and I got almost no Christmas shopping done, but I think I've had enough for one day."

Adjusting her scarf, she turned down the alley and headed towards the road to Hogwarts.

"Me too."

Hermione's spine stiffened when Malfoy fell into step beside her. What worried her most was that it didn't feel as odd as it should have, walking back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy. They spent time studying together, trying to solve the mystery of the attacks, helping each other—however unwittingly—out of awkward situations.

With some horror, Hermione pulled the list of suspects from her pocket again, knowing if Harry or Ron had been here, she'd have been doing the same things with them.

"Oh, Merlin," she whispered, her eyes wide. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Malfoy laughed beside her. " _Friends_? You really are desperate without those two idiots."

He had said he insulted his friends like he insulted her, she remembered.

She met his annoyed gaze. "This is some sort of twisted, Slytherin friendship, isn't it?"

"Oh, please, Granger," he dismissed her, but seemingly more out of habit. There was no venom in it. No scoffing at the idea of him befriending a mudblood.

If she was honest with herself, she had worried about his safety, knowing that as a former, actual Death Eater, he probably had the biggest target on his back.

"Merlin," she repeated under her breath.

Before Malfoy could respond, they heard a yelp and shouts further up the road.

"You don't think…" Hermione said before they took off running.

Hermione bumped into Malfoy when he abruptly stopped at the arched entrance to the castle.

"Oof!" she exclaimed.

Stumbling around the frozen blonde, she finally saw it: Xavier Vaisey, Slytherin's quidditch captain, sprawled across the courtyard, his eyes wide with shock and his femur sticking out of his thigh amidst a pool of blood.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay. I've been trying to post every weekend, but it got lost in the shuffle of things. Because of that, and because this chapter is a short one, I'll post twice today. Thank you for the follows and reviews!

Chapter 13

"Someone get Pomfrey!" Malfoy shouted.

One of Vaisey's friends staggered to his feet and ran into the castle.

"I'm out," Vaisey muttered. "Can't play like this."

"He's worried about quidditch right now?" whispered Hermione.

She and Malfoy knelt next to the injured boy, but he didn't seem to hear them in his state of shock. Malfoy pointed his wand at the wound and muttered an incantation. Blue light shot from the tip.

"To stop the bleeding," he explained. "Madame Pomfrey can handle the rest."

"The game," Vaisey muttered. "We supposed to be practicing for the game right now."

"What happened?" asked Hermione, turning to the boy's friends.

"I dunno," a girl in a green scarf said. "One minute we were walking, and the next there was a bang, and then Xavier was screaming in pain and bleeding and…"

The girl turned pale, staring at the pool of blood.

"Move aside!" Madame Pomfrey's shrill voice commanded.

Hermione and Malfoy stood back while the mediwitch examined the boy before levitating him inside the castle.

"So it wasn't Ernie," Hermione whispered when they were left alone in the courtyard with the pool of Vaisey's blood.

Malfoy's jaw was tight with anger.

"Then he had help," he snapped.

Jolted out of her shock, Hermione rummaged through her pockets for a folded piece of parchment. She ducked away, hiding behind a column.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she whispered.

She found Vaisey's name quickly, surrounded by others moving towards the hospital wing. Other students were scattered across the castle, but none close enough to raise suspicion. In the courtyard, only two names appeared.

"What is that?" Malfoy asked quietly behind her.

Hermione glanced back at him. She had known when she opened it that he would probably see it, but found she didn't care.

"What do you think it is?" she asked.

"Something you demented Gryffindors probably didn't exploit to its full potential."

Sighing, Hermione closed the map. "You're more like Harry and Ron than you think," she said. "The first time I saw it, all I could think of was how dangerous it was. You and those idiots all think it's fun and games."

"Who said I was talking about games?" Malfoy sneered. "And isn't it dangerous to show Mr. Death Eater himself something like this?"

Hermione searched his face for some sign of danger. Malfoy looked tired, his hands shoved in his pockets and his forehead creased.

"Friends, remember?" she said.

"Bloody hell," Malfoy murmured. "If you go all Gryffindor on me with this friendship shit—"

"Oh, deal with it," she snapped. "Or find a new tutor."

She brought the map up again and searched it. No one was out of place, as far as she could tell.

"How was Vaisey connected to Voldemort?" she asked.

"Didn't you read today's Prophet?"

Hermione shook her head. Malfoy dragged her inside the castle and into the Great Hall where they found a discarded newspaper. "ANOTHER BLOOD-PURIST BOOK BANNED BY MINISTRY," read the headline. The accompanying photo displayed a pleased government official incinerating a leather-bound book with her wand. The caption read, _Undersecretary Cassandra Clark destroying Wilhelm Vaisey's revolting treatise on blood purity._

"Vaisey," Hermione said.

"Xavier's grandfather," said Malfoy, "An outspoken pureblood, but not a Death Eater. No one in his family was, as far as I know, even if they were sympathetic."

"Well, the attacker reads the newspaper," Hermione said. "That sure narrows it down."

Hermione slumped onto a bench, staring at the photo of the happy witch burning books. Fear made people do stupid things: burn books, attack children for their forefathers sins, refuse to say out loud the name of the maniacal madman killing your friends and family.

"Do you enjoy ignoring me?" Malfoy interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione looked up with wide eyes and shook her head. "Did you say something? Sorry, I was thinking."

"Obviously," he drawled. "I hope you haven't gone brain dead, or we'll never figure this out."

"That wasn't a compliment about my mental capabilities, was it?" she asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly a secret that you've spent years with _the Savior_ figuring out all the complicated stuff for him."

Hermione exhaled slowly. "Well, I have no idea what to do now."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Barely doing anything to protect us," Theo muttered.

Hermione watched as the quiet wizard lazily flipped through a book, turning page after page with a flick of his wand. She had recruited Theo and Malfoy to help her research what kind of spell could nearly pull Xavier Vaisey's femur from his leg as Madame Pomfrey had never seen anything like it, but Theo seemed mostly interested in griping about the headmistress's lack of concern for Slytherin well-being.

"McGonagall ordered everyone to travel in pairs," said Hermione. "And she's increased the number of patrols."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Extra patrols wouldn't have helped Vaisey."

"You know he's right," Malfoy said.

"Are either of you going to actually research with me, or should we call it a day?" she huffed.

"You're only touchy because you know it's true," said Malfoy. "If Gryffindors were being attacked, there'd be aurors roaming the hallways."

"As I recall," Hermione said, "When muggle-borns were being hunted by a basilisk in this very castle, no aurors were called in."

Only the rustle of turning pages interrupted the awkward silence that followed.

"Why don't we do something actually useful and look at your map," Malfoy finally said.

Hermione's eyes widened with surprise, darting back and forth between the two Slytherins.

"Of course I told him," said Malfoy, giving her a look meant to make her feel like an idiot.

She glared at him, but pulled the parchment from her pocket. Theo looked impressed when the castle appeared after her incantation.

"We're here," she said, pointing to their names floating in the library.

Theo flipped open another section of the map. "How does it work?"

"Some advanced magic, including the Homonculous Charm" she said, and hesitated before stating the next part. "Harry's dad created it with Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew."

Malfoy flinched at the last name, and Hermione wondered how much interaction the two had had.

"The werewolf and the mass murderer?" Theo asked.

Holding a map created by four dead men—all in some way killed by Voldemort or his followers—Hermione suddenly felt somber, especially remembering Lupin's recent death. She should ask Harry how Teddy was doing, she told herself.

"Sirius wasn't a murderer," Hermione said quietly, not wanting to explain the rest fully.

Malfoy, whether sensing her unease or wanting to avoid his own, changed the subject.

"You're sure it's accurate?" asked Malfoy.

Hermione nodded. "It correctly detects animagi and even those under polyjuice potion. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Have you been using this on your patrols?" asked Theo.

Hermione shook her head. "McGonagall insists we go in pairs, and I'm not comfortable revealing the map to others."

"But Draco's okay?" Theo asked, with a look of unbelief.

Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't answer.

"Gryffindor friendship shit," Malfoy muttered before ignoring Theo's look of shocked disgust. "Where's MacMillan?"

Searching the grounds, they found Ernie with the rest of the Hufflepuff quidditch team out on the pitch.

"Seems rather ordinary to me," said Hermione.

While Theo and Malfoy discussed the possibilities of MacMillan sneaking back to Hogwarts undetected from Hogsmeade, Hermione's gaze flicked over the map. Not far from the quidditch pitch, the label _Hannah Abbott_ floated by the destroyed covered bridge. What they needed was someone who spent lots of time with Ernie, someone who couldn't keep things to herself.

"I'll see you guys later," Hermione said, stuffing her things into her bag and storming away.

"Where are you going?" called Malfoy after her.

"Later," she said, dismissing him with a wave.

She found the blonde Hufflepuff murmuring incantations alongside several other students and Professor Sprout.

"A little higher," the professor said, directing the placement of a beam.

Hermione wasn't sure how comfortable she was with students rebuilding major parts of the castle, like a bridge, but she supposed if magic could hold together the Burrow, it could hold a small bridge up.

"Oh, Miss Granger," said Professor Sprout glancing behind her. "We could use an extra wand."

"Of course."

Stepping next to Hannah, Hermione joined in.

"Touch to the left," the professor called out. "And there it is."

Wands lowered, and the concentration of the group dissolved. The wooden skeleton of the bridge was nearly complete, but it would take many more weeks of work to finish. Thanks to a weather protection spell, they at least didn't have to worry about the snow getting in the way.

"Good time for a break," said Sprout. "We can resume in a few minutes."

Hannah rubbed her hands up and down her arms while jumping. "Just my luck to get put on outdoor rebuilding duty," she said.

"At least it's almost Christmas," said Hermione. "What are you plans for the break?"

"Going home. Is anyone staying?"

Hermione shrugged. "I am."

"Won't Ron miss you at the Burrow?" asked Hannah with wide eyes.

Cringing inside, Hermione tried to keep her face neutral. With Hannah's gossiping record, tales of Hermione's sad love life would be raging through the castle by nightfall. Hannah did not need to know that Ron had not written in several weeks, that he was not the one to invite her to spend the holidays with the Weasley's.

"Of course they insisted I spend the break there, but McGonagall has so much work to do here. I couldn't possibly leave her with a clear conscience," said Hermione. "There will be plenty of Christmases to come. I thought maybe you'd be staying somewhere different this year."

Hannah's perplexed face turned to her. "Why would you think that?"

"I didn't know how serious things were down in the Hufflepuff burrow," said Hermione. "I don't mean to pry. Forget about it."

" _Serious_?"

Hermione liked Hannah, she really did, but the girl had never been one to catch a subtle hint.

"You know, between you and Ernie," she lied.

" _Ernie_!" Hannah sputtered.

"Oh—" Hermione said, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth in fake surprise. "I'm sorry! I heard something about you two, and I—well, I suppose I believed it since Ernie has been acting so strangely lately. You know, like maybe he's crazy in love or something like that."

Understanding dawned across the blonde's features.

"Me and Ernie?" asked Hannah with a laugh. "That's disgusting. I bet Justin started that rumor, just to get back at me for slipping a love potion in his pumpkin juice on Halloween. Did you see him fawning over Gabby Goyle all through dinner?"

"Hannah! After what that poor girl went through?"

Hannah giggled. "I'm sure she barely noticed—but it was worth it."

"Well, if you aren't with Ernie, why has he been so worked up lately?"

Hermione hoped it wasn't too heavy handed, and she held her breath as the Hufflepuff's good mood faded and she stared at the unfinished bridge.

"It's difficult for you to understand all the old political stuff," Hannah said finally. "Not that it's your fault—I mean, my mum was a muggle-born, so I'm not blaming you for that. You just don't know."

Hermione nodded, unsure where she was headed.

"I don't know for sure," Hannah continued, "but if I had to guess, I'd say Ernie is upset that Death Eaters have gotten off so lightly. Those of us from the Sacred Twenty-Eight who stood up against Voldemort suffered, too, even the purebloods like Ernie. His aunt's entire family was killed because she married a muggle-born, like my dad did."

Hannah's gaze dropped to her shoes, and Hermione felt like the worst person in the world for reminding the girl of her mother's murder.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," said Hermione genuinely. "I didn't mean to dredge all this up."

Hannah sniffed and looked up with a small smile pasted on her face.

"It's alright," she said. "I've accepted what happened and moved on from the anger—but it's not easy to see the children of those who murdered your family walking around as if nothing happened."

"I know," Hermione whispered.

Hannah nodded. "I know it's not their fault what happened, and most of them seem to be trying to move on from the blood status thing—look at you and Malfoy being civil. I never thought I'd see that."

Hermione grinned. "Me neither."

Hannah smiled more genuinely this time. "Give Ernie time. He'll come around. He's got his own prejudices learned from birth to get over."

Inventing an excuse to leave after a few minutes of lighter topics, Hermione said goodbye to Hannah and wandered back into the warmth of the castle. When she found the two Slytherins in the library waiting for her—a muggle-born Gryffindor—she wondered if things really were changing.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The Hogwarts Express pulled from the Hogsmeade station amidst a swirl of snowflakes and steam with Ginny waving madly from the window. She had nearly dragged Hermione onto the train at the last minute, but was eventually coaxed by Luna and Neville to leave her be.

"Mum won't forgive you," Ginny had said. "Or Ron for that matter."

"Stop worrying about me," Hermione had responded. "I'm looking forward to some quiet time. Only child, remember?"

Now as she walked the snow-slick road back to Hogwarts, she felt the heavy mantle of loneliness descend with newfound depths.

Why couldn't she swallow her pride and enjoy the holidays with those she loved?

She tromped into the great hall, her grumbling stomach leading the way. So few students had remained over the break that she could count them on her fingers. Under the gaping sky of the enchanted snowing ceiling, their small numbers looked even more pitiful. She slumped next to Malfoy who sat alone.

"Surprised to see you," he said.

She gave him a quizzical look as she grabbed an egg sandwich.

"I didn't think you had the resolve to stay away from your Ronny-kins for so long," he explained with a smirk.

"Shove it," she said, her mouth full of food.

"Charming."

She swallowed. "I'm surprised you didn't want to bask in the familial love of your parents."

"If my mother hadn't insisted on seeing my father in Azkaban, I definitely would not be stuck here with you and the dregs of Hogwarts society for company."

Hermione glanced around. The rest of the students left at the castle sat in two groups, and didn't seem particularly interesting or threatening.

"You don't think one of them is…you know?" Hermione asked.

"Doubt it."

"You should be careful anyway."

Malfoy's lips curled into a smirk. "Don't tell me Potter's little pet cares about my well-being?"

"Potter's…" Hermione muttered. "You know I was reading a fascinating text the other day, all about magical castration."

He shuddered exaggeratedly. "You are terrifying. Voldemort should have recruited you to the dark side if he wanted to win."

"The dark side doesn't temp Leia for a moment," she said, then sighed when Malfoy gave her a confused look. "Dark side? Luke and Leia—nevermind. Where's Harry when you need him?"

"A muggle reference?" he said, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes. I'll spare you the details to save your precious pureblood mind from being sullied."

Glowering, Malfoy gently set down his fork and clenched his fists.

"Is that what you still think about me?" he asked. "That I'm some sort of ignorant spoiled brat?"

Hermione glanced around the hall to see if anyone was paying attention to their conversation. Her comment had been more malicious than intended—being left behind by all her old friends hadn't left her in the greatest mood—but Hermione was surprised that Malfoy was so offended by what she thought.

"You've never kept it a secret that you dislike my kind," she said.

Malfoy scoffed. "Do you really think I'd be spending this much time around you if I thought muggle-borns had some sort of cooties?"

Hermione jutted out her chin. "So you don't think I spread disease, but you're superior simply by virtue of being born to certain parents."

Malfoy glared at her. "I'd prefer if you refrained from telling me how I feel in the future."

"But I'm right."

"No, you're not."

"Then what," she said after a moment. "You don't hate mudbloods?"

Malfoy flinched.

"I'm sorry, does that word bother you?" Hermione mocked.

His pale cheeks flushed, and Hermione vaguely wondered when the conversation had derailed. Yes, she was sad about Christmas, but she didn't know where the anger and annoyance directed at Malfoy had come from.

"We have already discussed my feelings on this matter," he said quietly. "You know what I think about blood purity, and I won't have the indoctrination of my childhood held over my head for the rest of my life."

Without waiting for a reply, he strode from the room.

Hermione lowered her head, pressing her cheek against the cool grain of the table. This wasn't her: argumentative and out for—what? Revenge? She'd ignored his taunts and smug superiority for years. Why did she care what that git thought about her blood status now?

Christmas break suddenly stretched before her like an eternity.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hermione knew it was a nightmare when she heard Bellatrix's laugh. They always began with that laugh.

"Let's have a little chat," the woman snarled under a tangle of wild hair. "Girl to girl!"

The next moment, Hermione was writhing on the floor in pain.

"Where did you get that sword!" Bellatrix roared.

The chandelier trembled above Hermione as the witch shot curse after curse at her. As the pain seared white hot through her veins, she saw nothing but the crystal swaying in time with her screams.

"You dare to disgrace us with your dirty presence!"

In the moment between curses, Hermione was vaguely aware of her audience, especially that smudge of platinum hair that made her former classmate so easy to spot.

"Filthy mudblood," hissed Bellatrix, when the last cruciatus finally stopped.

Through the lingering ache Hermione could feel the woman tugging at her sleeve.

"Can't have you forgetting what you are."

The pain that followed consumed every thought and feeling and memory Hermione had. She didn't realize she was screaming until Bellatrix paused to admire her work, and the echoes of her desperate cries reverberated through the room—that damn chandelier tinkling with the noise.

"Look at my work," Bellatrix hissed. "I said look!"

She grabbed Hermione's chin and forced her gaze down her body: trickles of blood dripped from the gashes, but she could make out the word _MUD_.

Five more letters, Hermione realized with horror.

That's when she met his gray eyes. His jaw was tight like he was grinding his teeth, and she realized he was terrified. Bellatrix raised her dagger, and Hermione stared at her classmate, the boy who had obviously recognized them earlier but had saved them from Voldemort for at least a short time.

"Please," Hermione whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Malfoy's eyes widened.

Bellatrix cackled. "Begging, now are we?"

Malfoy didn't move as his aunt proceeded to carve the rest of the taunt he had thrown so casually at the girl splayed before him. As she screamed, Hermione stared into those gray eyes for what felt like an eternity until the world turned black.

Hermione jolted awake to sweat drenched sheets, her heart racing and her breathing ragged. After a moment of terror, she remembered that she was in her bed at Hogwarts. Reaching up, she found her face wet with perspiration and tears. She sat up gingerly in the darkness and cradled her arm in her hand. Pulling up the sleeve, she traced her thumb over the scars.

 _MUDBLOOD_.

As she calmed, she was grateful that the room was empty for the holidays—she had awakened screaming once, terrifying her roommates. It hadn't happened again, but she had taken to putting up silencing charms around her bed curtains each night just to be safe.

She fumbled for her wand under her pillow.

"Lumos," she whispered.

In the blue glow, she sat listening to her breathing.

All alone.

Needing a distraction, she tore the curtains open and rummaged through her bedside table for something to read. When her fingers found the edge of a parchment, she made her decision.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The castle materialized before her eyes in lines of ink. She doubted there would be any attacks over the holidays, but thinking about that problem provided a welcome relief from her memories.

 _Minerva McGonagall_ , read a label pacing in the headmistress's office. Hermione wasn't alone in having nighttime problems, it seemed.

Flipping through the various folds of the map, Hermione saw no one else outside of dormitories until she glanced at the Astronomy Tower.

 _Draco Malfoy_.

Anger bubbled up in Hermione's already racing veins. He had watched her suffer. He had done nothing. And what was that idiot doing out of bed alone?

Before she could think through her actions rationally, Hermione shoved a pair of boots on and marched from the room, map in one hand, wand in the other.

She found him outside, leaning against the railing with the moonlight electrifying his hair.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

He jumped and turned.

"Merlin, Granger," he gasped.

In the cold air, their breath came out in little puffs. Hermione shivered in her cotton pajamas, but she refused to back down.

"Answer me," she hissed, striding towards him with her wand pointed at his chest.

He raised his hands. "Nothing. I couldn't sleep."

"And you had to come all the way up here?"

She could just make out his glare in the dim light. Hermione took another step closer.

"What?" she asked. "Do you enjoy recounting his death? Remembering the pain you've witnessed?"

"I don't know what your problem is, Granger—"

"Don't you _Granger_ me!" she shouted. "You did nothing! You watched and did nothing!"

Dropping the map, she used her free hand to pull up her sleeve. His eyes lingered on the scars for a moment.

"I take it we aren't talking about Dumbledore," he said quietly.

"Of course we're not!" said Hermione, her voice hitching.

She hated herself when the tears overflowed onto her cheeks.

"Granger…"

When she only responded with a sniffle, he took a cautious step forward. Her wand lowered a touch.

"I'm sorry," he said.

While she stared into those gray eyes that haunted her dream, she felt his fingers on her arm, gliding over the scars that she'd hidden from everyone's view for months. She didn't want anyone to see, let alone feel what that madwoman had done, but his touch was warm and soothing. Closing her eyes, she let her wand drop to her side.

"Hermione," he whispered, and suddenly his fingers were tracing the ridge of her cheekbone.

Her eyes shot open, and she saw the uncertainty in his expression. His breathing was heavy as he closed the distance between their bodies.

"I'm so sorry," he said, so close that she could feel the movement of his lips brushing against her temple.

Somewhere in her brain, Hermione screamed at herself to push him away, but something else was winning. In the second before his mouth found hers, she made the decision to kiss him back because she needed this. She needed to feel the warmth of another person's arms around her, to feel wanted. And she realized that in the past few months the usual anger and loathing she had felt when looking at Draco Malfoy had melted into a startling longing. Her dream that night was upsetting because she expected the man she knew now to do something.

Draco kissed her gently, pulling back after a moment, probably waiting for a hex.

Hermione grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged until their lips met again. When she opened her mouth and ran her tongue along his bottom lip, the kiss exploded into a frenzy of wandering hands and muffled moans.

"Hermione," he mumbled, repeating her name with awe as if it were a newly discovered spell.

She responded by running her hands through his fine hair and pressing her hips closer to his. She couldn't think clearly, but didn't care as she poured the tension of the past months into their kiss. In that moment she let go of the hurt Ron had caused, the anger over her parents' memories, the ache of missing her friends, and the terrifying truth that she had been so consumed by defeating Voldemort for years that she now had no idea what to do with her life.

Most of all, she felt a startling relief that Draco Malfoy didn't think she was a dirty mudblood.

When their lips finally broke apart, their limbs remained tangled. Hermione rested her forehead on his shoulder as they caught their breath. With his chest rising and falling beneath her, and his arms clinging so tightly, Hermione realized that Draco had probably been releasing a similar stream of problems into their frantic kiss. She didn't know if that meant they were using one another, or if she even cared if they were.

When the fog clouding her thoughts somewhat dissipated from her brain, she extracted her arms and whatever had been holding them together broke. He took a step backwards.

They stood for a moment in silence.

"We shouldn't be out past curfew," she said, the instinct to run away pumping through her veins and flushing her face. As good as that kiss had felt, this situation was problematic—a _you enjoy kissing Draco Malfoy, former bully and Death Eater_ sized problem on her already full plate.

"Goodnight," he replied, barely audible before disappearing into the shadows, and Hermione didn't know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken that he seemed just as eager to leave.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Can't say thank you enough for the kind words and for the follows! I hope this chapter makes up for the cliffhanger.

Chapter 17

With help from the Marauder's Map, Hermione successfully avoided being alone with Draco over the next few days. She saw him in the great hall, where she would occasionally find him staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She would ignore this and resume meaningless conversations with the students she surrounded herself with at each meal.

She wasn't afraid of him.

That definitely couldn't be it.

She simply had the urgent need to get to know the chatty fourth year Ravenclaw whose recently divorced parents were fighting over custody.

"It's obviously not just about me," the girl said. "I mean, I know they love me and all, but they're acting like jerks over this, which is why I stayed here over the holidays. Like, I'm not going to choose between the two of you."

Hermione nodded, feigning interest. She should have been more sympathetic, but she wanted to slap the girl who had two parents who remembered she existed. Totally unfair to the little Ravenclaw, Hermione's rational side told her. She still had to mentally remind herself to loosen the grip on her spoon.

"The whole magic thing has really strained their relationship, I think," said the Ravenclaw. "Mum has always distrusted it."

"That's really difficult," Hermione forced out. "I'm sure you'll work through it. I should probably get going. You know, Head Girl stuff."

The girl called out a goodbye as Hermione rushed from the hall. In her haste, she didn't notice that a certain Slytherin had beat her to it until she sprinted through the door and collided with him.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't see…" she trailed off when she finally looked up.

"I should be the one to apologize," Draco said, frowning. "Now your strategy of avoiding me is ruined."

"I'm not—"

"Right. The girl with the map that could locate me at any moment has coincidentally not run into the man she kissed three days ago."

Hermione's face burned. She glanced behind her at the entrance to the great hall. This was not something she needed the gossip mills to know about. Grabbing Draco's arm, she dragged him up the main stairs.

"Urgent prefect duties, I presume?" a voice called from below.

Quickly dropping his arm, Hermione turned to find the headmistress watching them. Hermione's face burned with the realization that their conversation may not have been private.

"No—of course not, Professor," Hermione rambled. "Oh! I mean, Head—"

"We were going to discuss the attacks," inserted Draco. "To figure out who is behind them."

McGonagall strode up the stairs towards them.

"I would expect no less from you, Miss Granger," she quipped. "Although I had assumed Mr. Potter the one usually instigating trouble in your little group."

McGonagall pushed past them and paused, hovering above.

"Come along," she said. "If you're going to insert yourselves into this problem, we may as well work together."

During the thirty minutes they spent in the office of the headmistress, McGonagall told them very little they didn't already know. Mostly, she grilled them for more information.

"How exactly did you know that no one else was in courtyard when you came upon Mr. Vaisey?" McGonagall asked.

Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance.

"We searched it," said Draco.

"Used a charm Remus taught me for counting the number of people within a certain radius of your location," Hermione said.

"I am familiar with it," the headmistress said.

Her pursed lips gave the impression of disbelief, but the headmistress didn't push the matter further. If she knew about the Marauder's Map, she must trust them with it. Hermione clenched her hands on top of her thighs to keep from squirming—even after all the rules she'd broken with Harry and Ron, she still died a little each time she lied or withheld information from an authority figure.

"If that's all you have to tell me, you may be on your way," McGonagall said, dismissing them with a wave as she turned back to a stack of papers on her desk.

Exhaling her relief, Hermione bolted for the door.

"Oh," the headmistress said, raising her head to shoot them a sharp look over her spectacles. "I nearly forgot to thank you for taking my admonition about inter-house unity to heart."

Hermione froze for a moment, watching McGonagall's lips twitch at the corners. Draco sidestepped her and trotted down the spiral stairs, cutting off Hermione's escape route.

"Of course," Hermione mumbled to the headmistress before stumbling away.

Stepping into the hallway, she found Draco leaning against the wall, arms folded and a familiar sneer pasted on his face.

"Where were we?" he said. "Girl avoiding man she kissed?"

Hermione shot her most scathing glare as she grabbed his elbow and yanked him down the hallway to a more private area of the castle. They stopped by a window overlooking the skeleton of the new covered bridge.

"First of all," she hissed when she dropped his arm. "You don't get to call me a girl and you a man, you infantilizing asshole."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's not what this is—"

"Secondly," she said holding up two fingers. "I did not kiss you. You had your hands all over me—"

"And you tearing a hole in my shirt pulling me closer was definitely not you kissing me," he shot back.

"So what if I was kissing you!" she snarled, hands on her hips.

"I don't know what sort of horrible manners they teach you in the muggle world," he said, leaning closer, "But here it's generally rude to kiss a man and then avoid him for days."

"Like you weren't eager to get away! Not that I'm surprised since you think I'm inferior by birth—"

Malfoy groaned, tipping his head back and running his hands over his face.

"Not this again," he moaned. "We've been over this. I don't give a fuck who your parents are."

The curse hit her like a slap. Hermione suddenly felt like a child throwing a tantrum. Feeling very small and stupid, she leaned against the castle wall, sliding her back down until her bum met the cold floor.

"I know," she whispered, covering her face.

She heard Malfoy sigh, and through her fingers saw his feet move closer. He sat next to her, the sides of their knees touching.

"Is this because I was a Death Eater?" he asked quietly.

Hermione looked up with surprise. "No."

Looking relieved, he rested his head against the wall.

"Then what is it?" asked Draco.

She considered his question, but couldn't find a satisfactory answer.

"I don't know," she finally said. "My life blew up in the war, and now everything is backwards. Nothing is how I imagined it would be."

Something touched her hand, and she looked down to find Draco's long fingers entwining with hers. When she met his gaze, he looked nervous—something Hermione had never imaged seeing on Draco Malfoy's face in their younger years.

"This isn't how I thought life would be either," he said.

When they kissed, Hermione felt a dam within her release. Her free hand found the back of his neck, and she felt his fingers run down her wet cheek.

"Am I making you cry?" Draco asked, breaking apart. "Is this about Ron?"

She shook her head as a sob erupted from her.

"Hermione, what is it?"

Swallowing, she tried to school her emotions, but she couldn't stop the tears.

"I—I obliviated my parents," she rasped.

He stared at her wide-eyed.

"They'll never remember me—never care about the boy I like or celebrate at my wedding or hold their grandchildren."

When Draco only blinked, she realized with horror what she had insinuated.

"Oh, Merlin," she cried, covering her face again. "I didn't mean it like that—like I'm planning our wedding."

After a moment, his arms wrapped around her, and soon her face was buried in his chest.

"I know," he said. "This just reminds you that they won't be there for the other things—whomever they're with."

She nodded, relief washing over her as she burrowed closer to him, no longer caring that this was the last place she had ever expected to find comfort.

"I didn't think about it during the war," she murmured. "Didn't have time—but now…"

Draco ran a hand through her mess of hair, smoothing it.

"We're out of survival mode," he said. "Now we have to remember how to live like normal people again."

Hermione pulled back and searched the face of the boy who had tormented her, who had been raised from birth to think she was dirty. Somehow, he seemed to understand better than anyone else what she was going through, but she couldn't understand why he cared. She knew she was an emotional wreck, and probably a physical one at the moment thanks to the crying.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Smartest witch of our age, my ass—isn't it obvious that I like you?"

Through the pain still lodged in her chest, Hermione felt a strand of happiness bloom like a flower in a wasteland. She couldn't hide the smile that followed.

"You really are a tosser," she grinned.

"So glad my feelings are reciprocated," he muttered.

Hermione grabbed his face with both hands and planted a kiss on his lips.

"I like you, too," she said.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Sorry this is a few days later than usual. I needed to throw in a little bit of smut, so here it is (no "M" stuff, of course).

Chapter 18

Hermione could barely hide her goofy smile when she saw Draco. If alone, she could simply push him against the wall and snog him senseless, but surrounded by others, she could barely look at him or risk looking like someone had slipped her a love potion.

Not that this was love. Definitely not love—Merlin, no—much too early for anything like that.

But she thought way too much about him when he wasn't around, finding herself opening the Marauder's Map and checking on his whereabouts every so often like a bloody stalker.

She knew this probably wouldn't last: the bubbly feelings of a new relationship. That didn't mean her stomach didn't flutter when he glanced at her, or she didn't feel flushed when she thought about his hands roaming her body.

Oh, did she like the snogging.

In a sprawling castle with fewer than twenty occupants, they'd managed to find plenty of dark corners to fumble around in, but after saying a reluctant goodnight and letting her body cool down, Hermione worried about what would happen after the holiday break. Without any discussion, they had naturally hidden their relationship from others. Hermione didn't know how long they could keep that up—and how horrified would her friends be when they found out?

Sometimes she wondered if she should be horrified that she had somehow fallen into a relationship with her former tormentor, but considering he had listened to her snivel about all of her problems and offered only comfort, she felt justified in trusting him.

When Hermione received an owl from Harry saying he'd stop by the castle on Christmas, she knew she should tell him. But that meant taking a break from kissing to discuss it with Draco, and she really, really liked the snogging.

"Draco," she whispered as he sucked on her earlobe. She needed to talk to him, but couldn't bring herself to push him away.

He let out a small moan. "I love it when you say my name."

Feeling a thrill, her lips found his exposed neck, and she sucked on the soft skin.

"Draco," she muttered again.

He pressed her harder against the wall of the classroom they'd stumbled into, and her stomach clenched at the feeling of his body flush against hers.

"Now you're teasing me," he said.

"You're not doing much to discourage it," Hermione said, circling her hips against his.

Draco moaned again.

"You are so much dirtier than I ever imagined," he rasped before his lips renewed their ministrations on her ear.

"Are you suggesting that you imagined me being dirty before?" she asked in a bit of a haze. She had no idea that her ears could feel so sexy. Ron had certainly never done anything like it.

Draco pulled back to look at her. "I'm fairly certain every boy in our year—and several others—has wondered if stick-in-her-ass-Granger has a sexy librarian side."

"Ew," she shuddered. "Are you trying to turn me off?"

Draco shrugged. With her brain functioning a little more clearly, Hermione remembered what she was supposed to be saying.

"Draco," she began before he could do something distracting. "Harry's going to visit on Christmas."

Frowning, he loosened his grip on her body.

"Now you're turning me off," he said.

She slapped at his arm. "He's my best friend."

"Doesn't mean I have to like him," Draco said. "I want to shag you, not him."

At the frank mention of sex, Hermione felt heat rush to her face, and she hoped Draco couldn't see her blush in the dim light.

"He's my best friend," she repeated. "And I don't know what to tell him about us."

Draco ran his hands down her sides, and she shivered at the touch. Leaning closer, he kissed the underside of her jaw.

"Tell him to bugger off," he muttered.

"Draco," she pleaded.

He sighed and stepped back.

"Why do you want to tell him?" he asked.

Without Draco's body pressed against hers, Hermione felt bare and embarrassed.

"I want to tell him who I spend most of my time with," she said. "We share almost everything. It would be strange to keep this from him."

Draco didn't respond, and it unnerved her.

"I understand if you don't want everyone to know you're snogging the resident know-it-all," she continued, staring at her feet. "I mean, we first kissed a week ago—I don't expect you to be my boyfriend or whatever."

When he didn't respond, Hermione was sure she had ruined it all, but before she could run out the door in shame, Draco grabbed her hands.

"You can tell Potter whatever you want," he finally said. "Just keep the details about the snog sessions to yourself. I don't want to duel the bloody Chosen One."

Hermione nodded and pulled him closer, but as they kissed, a new tension kept Hermione from giving herself over to the sensations fluttering through her body. She couldn't help but notice that Draco seemed distracted too. He almost looked relieved when they said goodnight and parted ways.

Walking back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione cursed herself. She didn't know what she should have done differently. Her experience with relationships was a bit shallow and did nothing to prepare her for dating Draco Malfoy. Maybe the war had driven her mad—both of them mad. What else could explain it? But despite her doubts, she found herself pleading with the universe to help them.

"Please don't let this blow up in our faces," she mumbled to the void.

"I suggest taking a different path," a painting of an ancient witch said from the wall, sending Hermione jumping from surprise. "I'd rather not be blown up tonight."

"Oh—bugger off!" Hermione huffed before striding away.

"How rude," she heard the witch say, but she was too far away to respond.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** Christmas is here! I'm one of those people who start humming Christmas tunes as soon as the first hint of autumn arrives, so I have no regrets posting a Christmas chapter in September. On a side note, I updated the summary of my story since I wasn't happy with the old one. Let me know what you think! As always, thanks for the reviews and follows!

Chapter 19

Hermione woke on Christmas morning with a groan. Sitting up, she clutched her throbbing temples.

"Stupid Draco," she muttered.

They'd received permission from McGonagall—along with a knowing smile—to spend Christmas Eve in Hogsmeade instead of sipping pumpkin juice with what Draco had called a bunch of children.

"We're of age," he had said. "We deserve a night out as adults."

Knowing the series of possible horrors Christmas Day would bring, Hermione obliged.

Downing firewhiskies with the celebrating locals had not exactly helped Hermione act more like an adult. With a groan, she remembered pulling Draco into the alleyway behind the Three Broomsticks and nearly stripping him in the falling snow. And she was fairly certain Madam Rosmerta had seen them.

So much for being discreet.

At least the alcohol had erased the awkwardness between them, albeit temporarily. Neither wanted to talk about the tension or past issues or what lied ahead. Being able to snog with abandon, even for one night, was nice.

As she crawled out of bed, Hermione fought against a wave of nausea.

Stupid, stupid Draco.

When she finally managed to drag her body into the great hall, she almost hexed Draco when he smirked at her disheveled appearance.

"Happy Christmas, Granger," he said. "Rough night?"

Hermione glared and fumbled for the wand in her back pocket.

"Easy there," he said. "Drink this."

He thrust a glass at her, conveniently occupying her hands with something other than her hexing stick.

"It's for the hangover," he added quickly.

Hermione sipped at the pumpkin juice and could barely detect the tang of the added potion.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"Wouldn't want your parents knowing I'm a bad influence on you."

She winced. Luckily, the fast-acting potion had already begun dulling the pain in her skull, or she didn't think she could handle this without snarling.

"Hermione, are you sure you're up for a visit?" he asked more seriously.

Forcing a smile, Hermione met his gaze.

"They're my parents," she said. "I have to see them on Christmas."

Draco didn't look convinced, but he let her nibble on toast in silence for a moment.

"So, when is scar-head scheduled to arrive?" he finally asked.

Hermione groaned, but was secretly pleased at the change in subject.

"Do you have to insult my friends?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. "I'm simply taking an interest in your life."

"Like bloody hell—"

"You'd better watch that dirty mouth of yours, or you won't get your Christmas present," he said quietly, but Hermione was sure the entire room could see him wiggling his eyebrows.

She ducked her head to hide the blush blooming across her cheeks.

"You'd better watch it or you won't ever see how dirty this mouth can be," she murmured.

Draco froze, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Fuck, Hermione," he finally whispered.

"Maybe if you're a good boy," she purred back.

He fumbled for his glass and downed his pumpkin juice like he had an internal fire to extinguish.

Hermione was pleased with herself for shutting him up. They'd spent their childhoods trying to best each other's verbal taunts, and for the first time she felt like she had the upper hand.

Feeling emboldened, she placed a hand on Draco's thigh and traced circles with her fingers. His forehead creased, and he looked to be in physical pain.

"Alright there, Malfoy?" asked Hermione.

"I swear to Merlin, you'll pay for this," he rasped.

"Pay for what?" a voice asked.

Hermione jerked her hand away and whipped around to find her two best friends decked out in Molly Weasel's Christmas sweaters, both shooting daggers at the Slytherin.

"Is this tosser threatening you?" Ron huffed.

Fighting her own embarrassment, Hermione pasted on a smile and stood. The last thing she needed was for Ron to lose his very short temper.

"Harry!" she said, hugging the shorter man before turning to the redhead. "I didn't know both of you were coming."

She moved to hug Ron, and his posture went rigid.

"Merlin, Ron," she huffed. "I thought we could at least still be friends."

"Mione," Ron said, eyes wide. "What are you—I mean, how could you—I told Harry I would take care of it."

He glared at Harry, who held up his hands.

"I haven't done anything, you idiot," Harry said.

The trio turned at the sound of Draco nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. He smirked as he set down his glass.

"Find something funny?" Ron said, the tips of his ears flushing red.

"Of course, Weasel," said Draco with a grin. "Your self-implosion is more satisfying than anything I could mastermind."

"You Death Eater scum!" Ron roared, jumping at the Slytherin.

Harry grabbed at his friend's lumpy sweater and pulled him back.

"Thanks for keeping your pet on a leash, Potter," Draco drawled.

"You—" Ron began, but Hermione stepped between them, hands on her hips and all business.

"You two out," she said, glaring at her friends and pointing to the exit. "Common room, now."

She spun around, and the smile on Draco's face faltered.

"I'll deal with you later, Draco," she hissed.

Pushing at her friend's backs, she herded them down the tables.

" _Draco_?" Ron echoed, sounding confused.

"Keep walking!" snapped Hermione.

Neither man dared speak again until they halted in front of the Fat Lady.

"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley!" the portrait squealed. "What an honor to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too," said Harry.

"Mistletoe," Hermione spat the password.

The Fat Lady frowned. "You don't have to be rude, dear."

The portrait sprang open, and Hermione stalked into the common room. She paced back and forth in front of the fire as her friends cautiously sat on the couch. After a moment, she crossed her arms and glared at Harry. This was the last thing she needed on today of all days.

"Why didn't you tell me _he_ was coming with you?" she asked.

"I didn't know I needed a special invitation—" Ron started.

"I'm getting to you," Hermione said, shutting him up.

Harry shifted in his seat, looking guilty. "I couldn't convince him to come until this morning."

"You could have told me you were trying," she said, exasperated. "There were certain things I wanted to discuss with you that _he_ complicates."

"Are you going to keep talking like I'm not here?" asked Ron.

Hermione shot a dark look at him.

"You really should learn to keep your mouth shut, mate," Harry muttered.

"You wanted me to come here to talk to her," Ron shot back, his arms flapping around with each word.

"Talk to me about what?" asked Hermione quietly.

Both looked uneasy.

"About what?" she repeated.

Ron swallowed before speaking. "We never really defined anything, so I figured it wasn't out of line to talk to people, you know? And if it went somewhere, then who could really blame anyone? Things happen and—"

"Just spit it out Ron," Hermione said. "Who is she?"

"Uh—Parvati."

"Parvati," repeated Hermione. "Another roommate of mine."

"She works in the ministry," mumbled Ron with downcast eyes, as if that explained everything.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Hermione said. "But I had hoped my best friend would have broken up with me in person instead of ignoring me for months like he could make me disappear."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Your behavior makes my news easier to deliver," she said. "I'm seeing someone, too."

Both men's eyes grew large.

"Really?" asked Harry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I could ask you the same thing about Ron and Parvati."

"He only told me a week ago," Harry pleaded. "I promise, I would have told you if he refused to visit today."

"That explains why the weasel finally decided to face me," spat Hermione.

Ron stared at his shoes.

"Who is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione's fists clenched, and she tried to regain her composure. Ron had messed up her perfectly planned conversation with Harry. She knew Harry might be unsettled by the revelation, but Ron might try to kill her boyfriend—or whatever the hell he was.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to tell you," she finally said.

Ron's features contorted with pity. "Oh, Mione, you don't have to pretend to be with someone to save face."

A split second before the body-bind curse hit him, alarm replaced the pity on Ron's face.

"You want to know who it is?" Hermione asked cooly, sashaying up to the rigid man and running her wand along the underside of his jaw.

She leaned forward until her lips nearly brushed his ear.

"Draco Malfoy," she whispered. "And he's a much better kisser than you ever were."

Even under the curse, Ron's eyes bugged out.

Straightening, Hermione cast a glance at Harry, who sat frozen with his jaw hanging open.

"Happy Christmas!" she shouted with outstretched arms before striding back through the portrait hole.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Your reviews have been so kind! Thank you for the encouragement.

Chapter 20

"Hermione!" Harry called out when she was halfway down the hall.

She paused, and he caught up to her, a bit wild-eyed.

"Are you really dating Malfoy?" he asked.

Sighing, Hermione prepared herself for her friend's ire.

"I told you he isn't like he used to be," she said.

"I'm sure he's improved over his eleven-year-old self, but that doesn't mean he's completely changed."

Hermione's gaze drifted to her right arm.

"He doesn't care about my blood status, if that's what you're worried about," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Would he be kissing me senseless if he thought I was somehow tainted?"

Harry's nose wrinkled.

"I guess not," he said after a moment. "But he could be using you."

"For what? Snogging? Because I fully consent to that. In fact, even if that's all this is, I don't really care right now."

"But Mione—"

"Girls can enjoy it, too, you know. Ask Ginny."

"That's not what I meant."

Hermione exhaled slowly, calming her breathing before continuing. "I know. You don't want me to get hurt, but he isn't promising me anything. We like each other's company, and that's it. Maybe it'll end horribly. Maybe I'll fall in love with him someday. I don't know, and I don't care because I feel happy for the first time in ages."

Harry's head was cocked to the side, his green eyes staring past her.

"Really, Harry," she huffed. "Would it kill you to pay attention for…"

She trailed off when she glanced behind her and found the lean body of Draco Malfoy draped casually against the castle wall.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, looking smug. "Potter."

"You little ferret," Hermione hissed.

"Uh—I'll go look in on Ron," said Harry before darting back into the common room.

Wand still in hand, Hermione stalked towards the cause of all this drama.

"Really Granger," he said, not looking too alarmed. "You wouldn't want to ruin your fun with my body—that is the source of your newfound happiness, isn't it?"

"I don't think you should be playing with fire," she spat, raising her wand an inch from his face. "I just put my best friend of seven years into a full body-bind."

Draco's face lit up. "Really? Can you do it again and let me watch?"

"You vile—"

Before she could finish, he batted away her wand and tugged her into his arms. With his hands tangled in her hair, his lips found hers. She nearly gave in, but found the resolve to push against his chest.

"Don't think you can distract me," she snarled.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"We both know you're worked up about meeting your parents later," he said and cut her off with a smirk before she could retort. "And you'd rather be kissing than arguing."

"That doesn't—"

Before she could finish her thought, his arms snaked around her while his lips found her earlobe—that damn, wonderful earlobe. Hermione struggled to focus.

"Uh…" a voice came from down the hallway.

Breaking apart, they found Harry's head poking out from the open portrait hole.

"I wanted to make sure everything was alright," he said. "Could I talk to you later, Hermione? When you're, um, free? It's about the attacks."

"Of course," Hermione blushed. "Come on, Draco."

She tugged at his arm as she moved towards the common room.

"Where exactly do you think you're taking me?" asked Draco, alarmed.

"If it's about the attacks, I'm going to have to repeat it all to you anyway," she said.

"So you can repeat it later, _in private_ ," said Draco, whispering the last two words suggestively.

Harry groaned and disappeared from view.

"Come on," huffed Hermione, pulling him along.

"But it's the bloody Gryffindor common room," Draco whined.

"And if you ever want to kiss a certain Gryffindor again, you'll get over yourself."

Draco grumbled, but followed.

"Behave yourself," she hissed before turning the corner and finding Harry releasing Ron from the curse.

"What in the bloody hell is he doing here?" shouted Ron as soon as his lips could move.

"You came here to officially break up with me, and you're upset that I've already moved on?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"My girlfriend's not a bloody Death—"

Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it at Ron.

"I suggest you don't finish that thought," she said before glancing at Draco. "And this has only been going on a week, so keep your mouth shut about it, understand?"

Ron grimaced. "Mione, you can't be serious! You have to be imperiused or nutters to go out with him."

With Draco glowering in her periphery, Hermione hesitated, unsure how to respond. On the one hand, Ron had no business poking his nose into her love life. On the other hand, he had a somewhat valid point. She and Draco had been friends for only a short time, and in a matter of days their relationship had exploded into a fury of physical contact that took up most of their time together.

"My mental state is fine. Harry said he had something to tell me about the attacks," she finally said.

Dragging Draco further into the room, she plopped into a chair. He draped himself on the padded arm of the chair, sending a little smirk Ron's way when his arm wrapped around Hermione's shoulders.

"Bloody decorator went a little overboard on the red and gold, don't you think?" Draco whispered into her ear, looking around the room.

"Like the Slytherin common room isn't a pit of green," snapped Hermione. "Now can we move on?"

All three men looked uncomfortable, although Draco covered his discomfort the best with his possessive asshole persona. He trailed his fingers through Hermione's tangled hair, leaned closer to run a hand down her arm. Harry looked a little green; Ron's face flushed red. The war may have helped Draco mature in some ways, but he had retained his love of taunting old schoolyard enemies, much to Hermione's annoyance.

"You had something to tell us about the attacks?" Hermione said, batting Draco's hands away.

"Yes—well, not the attacks themselves, but maybe something related," said Harry, looking more distracted from Draco and at ease with each word he spoke. "A couple weeks ago, a witch used the cruciatus curse on Augustus Rockwood—I think you remember him—while pretending to visit someone else at Azkaban. From what we understand, the woman's sister and nephew were killed by Rockwood a year ago."

"He was sentenced not long ago," Hermione said. "It was in the Prophet. She must have read about it there."

Harry nodded. "It's not directly related to the attacks here, but I thought you would want to know about it. So far, the ministry has kept the press out of it."

"Why?" Draco asked, pausing for a moment from touching Hermione.

"Shacklebolt doesn't want to encourage copy-catters. There's already enough fuel on the fire of retaliation with the attacks at Hogwarts being sensationalized in the Prophet."

"Do you know anything else about her?" Hermione asked. "Did she attend Hogwarts?"

"Yes. Graduated twenty or so years ago."

"So she could know how to get in?" asked Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "Maybe, but unlikely. McGonagall has altered security a bit since much of it was revealed to Voldemort's followers when Snape was headmaster. She's brought in several experts from around the world."

"Shacklebolt has mentioned a few things about it," Harry confirmed.

Ron grunted and crossed his arms. "He never tells me anything," he pouted.

"Maybe the next time you defeat the darkest wizard of our age, you can hear about it firsthand," quipped Hermione.

Ignoring Draco's laugh, Ron slumped further into the couch. He may have been known as the least intelligent of the Golden Trio, but he was smart enough to avoid a hex from a cross Hermione at that moment.

"I don't think the attacks are related," said Harry, reigning in the conversation. "But just in case, I thought you should know."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you have anything new to report here?" her friend asked.

"No. I told you everything I know about Vaisey's attack," she said, referring to her letters. "And Ernie."

"You really think it could be him?" Harry asked.

"That asshole?" inserted Draco. "Of course."

Before Harry or Ron could argue, Hermione spoke.

"Ernie is very angry," said Hermione. "I don't know if he's angry enough to do something like this, but it's certainly a possibility."

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the fire crackle.

"He was a right git during the Triwizard Tournament," Ron said.

"So were you," shot back Harry.

Ron reddened. "I came around."

Hermione laughed. Sitting in the common room listening to her best friends tease each other felt like old times. As the two quibbled, she let herself forget that they would be leaving soon.

"Waxing sentimental?"

She turned to the man whispering in her ear, her smile fading as she anticipated Draco's judgment. Instead, she found his forehead crinkled with worry.

"I'll be fine," she said.

Looking at the person in the room who wouldn't be leaving her, she almost believed herself.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Your reviews have been so kind! I love the encouragement. One review suggested something from Draco's POV, but I couldn't quite fit in how to make that switch this far into the story. This chapter does have some more insight into what he's thinking, so I hope it scratches that itch a little. As always, thank you for the follows and such!

Chapter 21

Not long after discussing the attacks, Harry and Ron produced Christmas presents for Hermione—she had already sent theirs by post. She was sure that while they joked and told stories Draco would eventually get annoyed with three sentimental Gryffindors and leave, but he hovered near her side until the two said their goodbyes and returned to the Burrow.

"I thought they'd never leave," Draco murmured, his lips brushing down her neck and along her collarbone.

"Are—are you okay?" rasped Hermione, forcing the words out before she got too distracted.

With his hands still on her arms, his eyes searched her face for a moment. They stood in an alcove off the first floor, not far from the front entrance of the castle where they had seen off Harry and Ron.

"Should I not be okay?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. You just spent several hours with three of your least favorite people."

"Two," he corrected.

"Well, you haven't seemed totally at ease around me lately, either."

Draco sighed. "Are we really talking about this now?"

"Why not?"

"Because snogging is better—and you have to meet your parents in an hour."

Hermione took a step away and crossed her arms.

"I heard what you said to Potter," Draco continued. "I like you, you like me—we both really like kissing. Why does it have to be more complicated than that?"

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione considered the situation. She didn't want to scare him off, but she really hated the unknown, and her relationship with Draco was riddled with unknowns.

"If all you want is someone to snog with, that's fine," she said after a moment. "But I need to know that. I don't think I could handle falling into something deeper with you only to receive a wedding announcement from Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass after graduation."

Draco smirked. "Don't worry; they would never invite you."

Hermione scowled as her fists clenched at her sides.

"Oh, calm down," he said. "You should count yourself lucky. Most of the pureblood traditions for things like marriage are boring as hell."

"So, that's it," nodded Hermione, hiding her hurt by staring at the ground. "That's fine if you want to have some fun before you uphold your family's wishes. I just needed to know."

Groaning, Draco grabbed her arms again. "No, you stupid Gryffindor. That's not what I meant."

He leaned down and kissed her gently.

"But when I mentioned telling Harry, you weren't happy," she said.

"I didn't want you to tell Potter because I was sure he'd convince you to dump me," Draco said, rolling his eyes as if it were obvious.

"Oh."

"I don't know how the hell this happened," he continued, gesturing between the two of them, "But I'm fairly certain you're my girlfriend."

Hermione blushed, and she cursed herself for feeling so giddy over such a small thing. She had helped defeat Voldemort. She was the brightest witch of her age. Why should she feel a little weak in the knees at that moment?

Before she said something sentimental and overly Gryffindor, she pulled Draco closer until their lips met.

"You're an ass," she whispered between kisses.

"Know-it-all," murmured Draco as her lips traced his cheekbone.

"Snake."

"Gryffindor."

Hermione's head popped up. "That's not an insult."

He smirked, but after a moment worried crowded his expression.

"My father won't take this well," he said, his eyes boring into the wall behind Hermione.

Hermione bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue—this was not the time for her anger at her parental situation to rear its head.

"Do you care what he thinks?" she asked carefully.

Draco focused on her, his forehead creased with worry. "Not particularly since he nearly ended my life and my mother's, but his response is indicative of how most people will react."

"So a few old purebloods think you shouldn't date a muggle-born," she said. "Who cares?"

"Hermione, did you really think all this prejudice would stop because Voldemort died?" Draco sighed.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "But it will get better in time."

"Why didn't it get better after the first wizarding war?" he asked. "Why didn't my father get over his hatred of muggle-borns? Why did professors like McGonagall go out of their way to punish the children of Death Eaters?"

"She wouldn't—"

"Oh, yes, she would," he spat. "She may be pushing inter-house unity now, but she had nothing but disdain for Tom Riddle's house when she looked the other way at Potter's stunt during flying lessons—"

"That was your fault!"

"Like I forced him to do it," Draco scoffed. "I would have been punished if I was caught. Potter got a pass because it meant sticking it to the Slytherin quidditch team."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

"And you know that's not the only time you Gryffindors have gotten off easy," he said.

"We were fighting Voldemort!" insisted Hermione, nearly stamping her foot.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And how exactly did the stolen flying car help defeat the Dark Lord?"

Clenching her jaw, Hermione crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

"Fine," she conceded. "There are prejudiced idiots on both sides. What do you want to do about it? Keep snogging in dark corners and insulting me in public?"

"That is tempting."

"I think it would do people good to see us together," she said.

"Like everyone won't think it's an inter-house unity ploy by McGonagall," he scoffed. "Which it might very well be. Maybe we should check each other for love potions or memory charms."

Hermione's fists clenched. Why was he being so difficult?

"You're the one who said I was your girlfriend," she huffed. "If you're ashamed of dating a mudblood, come out and say it!"

Draco glared at her. "You know it's not that."

"What else could cause you to act all defensive like this?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are!"

"Because it makes no sense that you'd want to be with me!" he shouted back.

Hermione froze, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "What?"

Groaning, Draco ran a hand over his face before speaking.

"I have a history of tormenting you. My father is deservedly serving time in Azkaban. Many people think I should be there for letting Death Eaters into the school to kill Dumbledore. My aunt tortured you in my house—while I watched and did nothing—and there's _this_."

He tugged up his sleeve, revealing the black ink of the dark mark against his pale skin.

Hermione stared at it, unable to look away for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she forced her eyes upwards.

"You didn't really want to do any of it," she said. "You don't think I'm a mudblood."

Draco sighed, his body relaxing a bit. "It's not that simple."

She stepped closer and snaked her arms around his torso. His hands hung limp by his sides, but his head tipped onto her shoulder.

"I know," she said. "But we'll figure it out."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** So many feels in this chapter. Thank you for the follows and reviews. They keep me motivated!

Chapter 22

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Draco asked for the third time.

Hermione shook her head. As much as she wanted someone by her side, she had to face her parents alone. She appreciated that her pureblood boyfriend of one week was willing to meet her muggle parents: they may not know she was their daughter, but parents were parents. If Hermione could avoid Narcissa—and especially Lucius—for rest of her life, she gladly would.

"The portkey is only registered to transport one person," she said. "And I'm fairly certain the ministry wouldn't react well to you leaving the country unexpectedly."

Draco's expression darkened at this, and he mumbled a string of curses about the bastards in power.

"I'll be back in an hour," she said, kissing his cheek and stepping through the giant, iron gates of Hogwarts.

Standing outside the school grounds, she pulled a box from her cloak pocket. She flipped open the lid. Mumbling an incantation, glowing numbers appeared on the side of the ballpoint pen, counting down.

 _7…6…5…_

With one last look at the worried blonde standing in the snow, she clutched the pen.

 _4…3…2…_

"Good luck," Draco called.

 _1._

With a sickening twist of her stomach, Hermione's body collapsed in on itself and twirled. When she was hurled from the tornado, her hands and knees thudded onto a patch of long grass.

"Oh, I hate that," she mumbled, standing and brushing her pants.

Hermione squinted against the bright sunshine and unclasped her cloak. The rolling hills where she landed were flush with the slightly burnt green of summer. Insects buzzed, and in the distance between hills, she could make out the blue glint of the sea. She stuffed her cloak into her extended bag, along with her sweater and boots. Slipping on sandals, she paused to roll up the cuffs of her jeans before apparating away.

When she lurched into her parents' garden, she crouched behind an old eucalyptus tree. Their home was visible through the tangle of flowering bushes and trees—her mother had always wanted an overgrown garden like this one. It was a small comfort to Hermione that she had given her that at least.

Inching around the tree trunk, she spotted her parents through the glass back door, sipping on cool drinks and watching the telly. Through an open window, she could hear her father's laugh over the chatter of the program.

Something knotted in Hermione's chest, and she suddenly wished someone was here with her—Draco, Harry, anyone who knew who she was.

Creeping around to the front door, she wiped away the tear trickling down her cheek. She threw her shoulders back and knocked.

"Oh, hello," her mother said, surprise on her face. "You're Hal and Margaret's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Granger," Hermione rasped, forcing a smile.

When several experts had failed to restore her parents' memories, Hermione had wanted to put in new ones, to rewrite herself into their lives, as sloppy as it might be. Everyone had cautioned her against this.

"The mind is an unpredictable thing," the head healer at St. Mungo's had said. "If you tamper with it too many times, it could cease to function properly."

They had permitted one small change. Hermione was now the daughter of her mother's dead college roommate. She could visit once or twice a year, say her "mother" had told her all about the Grangers and that she just had to look them up when she was sent to Perth on business. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had invited her into their home based on the implanted memories of their friends with a baby girl and nearly two decades worth of Christmas cards with Hermione pasted in.

"I know it's Christmas, but I'm only in town for a few more hours and wanted to stop by," Hermione said. "My mother would have wanted me to."

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Granger, opening the door wider. "We're only watching the telly. Some company would be lovely."

Hermione followed her mother to the couch, where her father shouted a "Happy Christmas" at her and invited her to eat some sugar-free sweets while they watched a badly animated holiday movie. She nearly lost herself in the normalcy of it all, even if she couldn't honestly answer her mother's friendly questioning about her job.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" Mrs. Granger asked.

The surprise hit Hermione like a hex. The question was so casual, so normal for an acquaintance to ask, and it hurt all the more for it. Hermione wanted to tell her mother everything: that she was dating the git she'd complained about for years, the bully who had tormented her—how conflicted she felt about wanting him so badly, and more importantly needing to be wanted by someone.

Fighting back her tears, Hermione was reminded that the biggest casualty the war had taken from her was her parents. The people in front of her may have been alive, but they weren't hers.

"Yes," she finally said. "We haven't been together long, so I'm not sure if it'll last."

"Oh, that's not the important part," her mother said. "If you're looking for the end, you'll never enjoy it."

"That's right," inserted her father. "That's why I always live in the present. Ignore the dirty dishes and enjoy the telly now."

Hermione laughed alongside her mother, but she could barely keep the tears at bay.

Long before she was ready to leave, she was shuffling out the door, saying goodbye. Before she could stop herself, she swept them both into hugs, one after another.

"Thank you," she said, no longer able to stop the crying.

"Oh, of course, dear," Mrs. Granger said.

"Happy Christmas," said Hermione with a smile before leaving.

"Poor thing," she heard her mother mumble as Hermione walked toward the street, no doubt pitying the orphan all alone on Christmas.

When Hermione fell back into the snow before the gates of Hogwarts, she couldn't rise from her knees as the sobs shook her body. She felt arms wrap around her shoulders, and she buried her face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Draco murmured.

Darkness had fallen completely when Hermione's breathing steadied and she finally opened her eyes. In the distance, she could make out the blazing torches of the school, and in the tangle of trees surrounding them she could hear night creatures stirring. Stars had appeared overhead, twinkling in the patterns her father had taught her: Orion, Cassiopeia, Draco.

"I see you," she whispered, gazing at the dragon in the sky.

"It's a bit much to live up to—a bloody constellation," he grumbled into her hair. "I don't know who in the Black family decided to set us all up for failure."

"Ancient peoples used the stars to remember stories. I like the idea of looking up and remembering loved ones."

Draco snorted.

"I'd rather not think of my crazy aunt when I look at Orion's shoulder," he said.

"Sad stories need to be remembered, too," said Hermione. "Or we won't appreciate the happy ones."

Staring at the sky for a moment, Draco cleared his throat.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

A satellite streaked across the darkness above, and Hermione's eyes followed it until it fell away.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

By now, both of their pants and cloaks were soaked from sitting in the snow, and Hermione shivered.

"Let's get inside," Draco said, pulling them up.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "This has been the shittiest Christmas I can remember, but you've made it tolerable."

"Tolerable? That's high praise for a git like me."

"Yeah, it is," said Hermione, finding herself smiling genuinely for the first time all day.

She tipped her head back as they walked, soaking in the night sky for one last moment before they entered the warm embrace of Hogwarts.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note** : We're over 100 follows! I never expected that big of a response to my story. Thank you, thank you! And apologies for the late chapter. Hope Luna's appearance makes up for it (she's my favorite).

Chapter 23

A week later, students once again filled the castle. Christmas presents meant broom races through the halls as students wagered whose new gift was fastest, or various Weasley potions slipped into a friend's pumpkin juice—the number of students sporting mustaches, male or female, had risen dramatically. In short, it was Filch's second least-favorite time of the year, beaten only by the last week of school when students no longer cared about punishment.

Hermione had little more than a few stolen moments in dark classrooms with Draco as they scrambled to organize the chaos and prepare their prefects for extra rounds of patrols—McGonagall had insisted on more after the attack on Vaisey.

"How am I supposed to study for NEWTs?" Hermione groaned to Ginny as they sat in the common room, a table full of prefect schedules and study charts separating them. "Professor Vector is taking it easy on me, I just know it. I'll fail for sure."

"You always manage," said Ginny before popping a Bertie Bott's jelly bean into her mouth. "Ew, soap flavored."

Hermione sighed, partially out of annoyance that Ginny didn't care more about their upcoming exams, but mostly because Hermione had not yet told her about Draco—she had been shocked beyond words that Ron had actually kept his mouth shut about it. Hermione and Draco had agreed to tell their friends first before snogging in front of the school, as he had so eloquently put it.

"Gin, there's something you should know…" Hermione began.

"Oh, I know it's all over with Ron," her friend said. "That git."

"No, it's not—"

A shriek filled the room, followed by smoke and laughter as the after effects of a dung bomb emanated from a corner.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, sweeping her things haphazardly into her arms.

"It's nearly time for class, anyway," said Ginny with a hand covering her nose.

Hermione stumbled through the portrait hole, almost dropping her books—she was too focused on the upcoming prospect of seeing Draco and acting normal with him in front of everyone to pay attention to where she was going. She was so worried, she didn't notice how far they'd moved through the halls until the potions classroom appeared out of nowhere. Her intention of telling Ginny before class had borne no fruit.

"Oh, hello Ginny. Hermione," a soft voice said.

Looking up, Hermione found Luna standing just inside the doorway. The girl's fingernails were flashing red and green, and Hermione thought she could hear a faint Christmas carol humming in time to the changing colors.

"I came up with the enchantment myself," Luna said, following their gazes to her fingers. "But now it's stuck."

"Does it play anything else besides 'Jingle Bells?'" Hermione asked.

"Only the one muggle song, but I quite like it."

Ginny replied, but Hermione didn't pay attention. A mop of platinum hair had appeared in the doorway with his friend.

"Oh, good. They're on time," Luna said, looping her arm through Hermione's and pulling her towards the two Slytherins. "Draco tends to make Theo late."

Luna dropped Hermione's arm after pushing her towards Draco. When they stood frozen in front of her, Luna cocked her head to the side and seemed to consider them.

"You shouldn't feel bad about switching partners. I've been wanting to spend more time with Theo," Luna said while the dark haired Slytherin next to her turned pink. "And Ginny will get along fine with Padma. It'd be strange if you didn't want to partner with your boyfriend."

Hermione's mouth fell open, but she couldn't speak.

"Her what?" Ginny laughed.

When Hermione and Draco only stared at the starry-eyed Ravenclaw, Ginny's smile faltered.

"Luna, I don't think they're dating," said Theo quietly.

"Of course they are," Luna said. "They've got marks all over their necks. They don't spend enough time with anyone else to get them elsewhere."

Hermione's hands flashed upwards to cover the incriminating evidence.

"Fucking Merlin," whispered Ginny, a look of horror widening her eyes.

"I don't think you'd want to do that," said Luna, wrinkling her nose. "He's rather old—and dead."

Before anyone else could comment, another wave of students pressed into the classroom, alongside Professor Slughorn.

"Take a seat, take a seat," he said, waddling to the front.

Luna pulled a confused Theo away while Ginny clamped her mouth into a tight line and marched to Padma's table with clenched fists. Glancing at Draco, Hermione found him still frozen, his eyes vacant. By now, almost everyone else was sitting, and more than one pair of eyes were trained on them. When Hermione spotted Ernie glaring at them, she found her resolve.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Draco's hand in hers and dragging him to the last empty table.

Ignoring the whispers zipping through the room, Hermione plopped open her potions textbook. Draco sat limply next to her.

"Now," Slughorn began, "Before the break most of you successfully brewed Blood-Replenishing Potion."

His eyes swept over the class, and when he found Hermione and Draco together, he frowned, but did not stop speaking.

"Today we will continue in the vein of useful medical potions. Who knows the ingredients found in Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Draco flinched next to Hermione, and she caught his eye as Padma rattled off an answer.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"I hate Dreamless Sleep," he said.

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows together, conveying her confusion.

Draco sighed as Slughorn prattled on. "I became addicted to it while _he_ was living with us."

"Oh."

Slumping a bit, Hermione was reminded of how much she didn't know about the man next to her. She looked around the room to distract herself. Ginny sat with her arms crossed, keeping her eyes anywhere but on Hermione. Ernie kept shooting glances at them. Luna had her fingers absently working through Theo's hair, and he looked less uncomfortable with it than Hermione would have anticipated.

Something wiggled on her leg, and Hermione looked down to find Draco's fingers grasping hers.

"I'm okay now," he whispered. "With the potion and with this."

"You have thirty minutes to brew," announced Slughorn, bringing Hermione's attention back to the front of the room. "Whichever team produces the best batch of Dreamless Sleep will earn an extra ten points on their assignment and for their houses."

"I wasn't listening," Hermione mumbled to Draco as they laid out the ingredients.

"Neither was I, but I'm sure you've already read all about it."

Hermione frowned. "My reading won't help you on the NEWTs, and you know Potions is the most important NEWT for healers."

"Won't happen anyway."

"You don't know that," she shot back.

Boyfriend or not, she'd twist every arm in St. Mungo's to get Draco into healer training. If he could pass his NEWTs, he deserved a spot.

Draco didn't answer, but she doubted he believed her. Instead, he was crushing the pile of staghorn mushrooms Hermione had carefully measured.

"Why weren't you okay?" she asked. "With everyone knowing about us?"

Draco paused for a moment before crushing the fungi with more vigor.

"I don't care what he thinks—I really don't—but absolute fealty to the family has been drilled into me since birth. Going against my father's wishes is traitorous."

"Someone will tell him?"

"The gossip will reach my mother. I don't know what she'll do with it."

Hermione dropped a pinch of octopus powder into the cauldron, which immediately gave off a puff of purple smoke.

"Do you still have nightmares?" she asked quietly.

Draco paused in his work before lowering the pestle to the table.

"Yes," he said. "Do you?"

Hermione nodded. "Your aunt, mostly."

He winced.

"And the rest?" he asked.

A little startled, Hermione searched his face. "What do you mean?"

"You said 'mostly'."

She hadn't realized what had come out of her mouth. For a moment she considered lying to him, but as if sensing this, his eyes narrowed.

"Obliviating," she blurted.

Tipping his head to the side, Draco seemed poised to ask questions, and Hermione could feel the pressure welling up behind her eyes. The dreams didn't happen often, but in each one, she erased the memories of another person she loved: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Molly. Before slipping into bed each night, she fought back the knot of anxiety that had grown the past two weeks, always wary that this would be the night she erased Draco's memory—when he would sneer at her and call her mudblood again, all while she still cared for him.

"I think it's time to add the mushrooms," said Draco.

"Yes," she whispered, relief sweeping through her body.

Slughorn appeared before them, nearly sending Hermione jumping out of her skin.

"Don't forget the counterclockwise stir after adding the moondew," he said, his buggy eyes darting from one to the other before he walked away.

"What are your dreams about?" Hermione asked after a moment.

Draco shrugged. "Things I watched him do."

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"Things he made me do," he continued. "Things he threatened to do to my parents—and then there's my aunt, of course."

"We should be nightmare buddies," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "We can both wake screaming bloody murder at Bellatrix."

The corners of Draco's lips ticked upwards. "Are you trying to jump in bed with me, Granger?"

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

The conversation turned more pleasant after that as they slowly assembled their potion. When Hermione glanced randomly up at the clock, class was nearly over. She had been dreading the moment everyone found out, and yet with Draco the time had flown by. Peering into their cauldron, her happiness deflated a little.

"I don't think we'll receive very high marks for this," she said.

"I know something you could receive high marks in," he murmured.

"Oh, Merlin."

"Yes, that's what you'll be saying," grinned Draco.

She glanced around the room, catching some of her classmates staring at them. Seeing the two former enemies smile at each other must have been jarring judging from the shocked expressions on their faces.

"This is weird," he said, following her gaze.

Hermione grinned, knowing she'd gained the upperhand. "Now _that_ is exactly what I'll be saying."

Draco smiled back, meeting her gaze, and a little voice in Hermione's head told the rest of the world to sod off.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

By dinnertime the entire castle was buzzing about the coupling of Harry Potter's best friend and Mr. Death Eater himself. When Draco slid next to her on the bench, a hissing filled the air as half the room began furiously whispering.

"Is this okay?" Draco asked, wincing.

Hermione scowled. "You mean sitting here and eating your dinner like a normal student? I don't see what's so gossip worthy about that."

Down the bench, Hannah leaned over the table to better hear their conversation, trailing her braid through a bowl of soup in the process.

"Honestly," said Padma, pushing back the Hufflepuff who was practically in her lap now.

Across the table, Neville glanced up nervously, eyeing them both. Further down, Ernie looked ready to murder his dinner.

"Would you all stop acting like we have the bloody plague!" Hermione snapped.

"More like Death Eater cooties," someone snickered at the table behind them.

Hermione turned to snap at the culprit, but found a table of younger students she barely recognized. Part of her had hoped it would be Ginny—it was something she would say, if she were talking to Hermione. When she had tried to talk to her friend after class, Ginny had ignored her and tromped away. Hermione hadn't seen her since.

"Maybe I should go," Draco said.

Gripping his arm, Hermione forced his body back to the bench.

"You are not leaving me here to face this alone," she hissed.

"Then come with me."

"Leaving dinner early together would be like throwing petrol on a fire."

"What's petrol?" asked Draco.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a bad idea, alright? We don't need to encourage this."

"It's going to happen either way. At least we wouldn't have to listen to it if we left."

Across the table, Neville cleared his throat. He visibly cowered when Hermione and Draco turned their defensive glares on him.

"You—you're really dating?" Neville forced out.

The students around them froze, waiting for an answer. Hannah looked ready to burst, and Michael Corner held his spoon halfway to his mouth, soup dripping down on the table in big globs.

"Fucking Merlin's balls," Draco groaned. "Yes! Now leave us alone!"

Standing, he pulled Hermione with him, ignoring the shocked faces around them as they strode from the hall.

Hermione's face burned, but her mortification faded when they hid themselves away in a classroom and turned their frustration into frenzied snogging.

"Those assholes," mumbled Hermione before gasping.

Draco's hand had slipped under her shirt, which wasn't new. This time, though, his fingertips didn't stop at her lowest rib—he hadn't braved touching her chest since they'd been drunk on Christmas Eve.

"They can all piss off," he murmured into her neck as he explored the contours of her bra.

When they did finally break apart, both were thoroughly mussed. As Draco clumsily buttoned his shirt and Hermione tried to tame her hair, she couldn't help but smirk.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"If the gossipy disapproval of a bunch of school children leads to that, I can't wait to see what your father's wrath will do," she said.

Draco laughed. "I could threaten him with horrid little half-blood grandbabies if he doesn't keep his temper in check."

"Please tell me you're not an eighteen-year-old wizard who can't perform a contraceptive charm."

"In this scenario our passion would match his anger and eclipse reason," he said with a grin. "We'd forget."

Hermione shuddered. "That's terrifying."

"My father or half-bloods?"

She shot him a warning glare.

"What?" he said, lifting his hands. "Some of my least favorite people are half-bloods."

"The pregnancy part," she said, barely masking how uncomfortable she felt. Sex was scary enough—talking so casually about their potential children left her feeling nauseous. She pushed past him to the door. "I'm going to be late for patrols."

"Hermione," he said, rushing down the hall after her. "It was a joke."

Before he could continue, Hermione hurried around the corner, and they stumbled upon a cluster of prefects outside McGonagall's office, all of them eyeing the two, some whispering behind their hands.

"Wonderful," Hermione huffed. Now the school had more to gossip about.

"Mr. Malfoy," came the voice of the headmistress behind them. "It is nearly ten o'clock. The Head Boy wouldn't be caught out after curfew, would he?"

Draco cast a frustrated glance at Hermione before slipping back down the hallway.

"Did you forget my rule about students traveling in pairs?" asked McGonagall.

Turning back around with a glare that made his murderous thoughts very obvious, he folded his arms over his chest before speaking.

"And who gets the honor of babysitting me?" he sneered.

Hermione rolled her eyes, the memory of eleven-year-old Malfoy not getting his way popping into her mind.

"Miss Granger and her partner for tonight are more than capable," McGonagall said, ignoring the snickers of the Hufflepuff prefects. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Jones can wait here while I have a word with Miss Granger in my office. The rest of you can begin your rounds."

The prefects trickled away in pairs as Hermione and McGonagall left a very nervous Ravenclaw eyeing an obviously upset Draco.

Inside the headmistress's office, McGonagall motioned to a chair, and Hermione sat.

"You probably know why I wanted a word with you," the headmistress began, sitting behind her overcrowded desk. "Many people are upset to see you and Mr. Malfoy together."

Hermione's hands clenched in her skirt. "I don't see why it concerns them."

McGonagall gave a tight smile. "They are worried."

"I'm hardly the first girl to date a boy at Hogwarts."

"You know it's not that simple. Not an hour ago, Mr. Creevey insisted I check you for the imperius curse."

"Is it so hard to believe that I actually like him?" Hermione nearly whined.

"Not at all."

"You don't think he's…unsuitable?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall pursed her lips and regarded the woman before her.

"Miss Granger, if you had asked me such a question several years ago, I would have been sure of my answer."

"But now?"

"I can see the shades between the light and dark. It's a murky existence we live. Albus tried to teach that to me when he told me of Mr. Malfoy's task to kill him."

As she spoke the headmistress stood and walked to the portrait of Dumbledore behind the desk, where the old wizard was currently snoring.

"I thought we should detain him immediately," she continued while studying her old friend's face. "Lock him away before he did anything. Albus saw the good in him, wanted to give him a choice."

"There is good in him," said Hermione.

McGonagall turned to face her.

"Yes, there is," the older witch said. "Even if I didn't see it before. You must help them see it, too."

"What else can he do? He hasn't put a toe out of line this year."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," McGonagall said, looking at her over her half-moon glasses. "Now, off to your rounds."

With the presence of the skittish Persephone Jones, Hermione and Draco barely glanced at one another as they walked through the dark castle towards the dungeons.

Hermione was grateful for the quiet, musing over her conversation with McGonagall. Somewhere on the second floor, her thoughts turned to what Draco had said earlier.

 _It was a joke_.

That's what everyone thought, wasn't it? She and Draco being together longterm was nothing but a joke, a when-pigs-fly scenario. They were young and barely knew one another, but why bother with any of it if the ending was already assured?

Putting that aside, how was she supposed to show her friends that Draco Malfoy was not all bad? She supposed he would have a difficult time explaining his muggle-born girlfriend to his friends and family, but since most of his Slytherin classmates hadn't bothered returning to the school, he at least didn't have to face all of them everyday. Theo had even begun smiling at her lately—of course that could be thanks to whatever he and Luna got up to when they slipped away together.

"What was that?" Persephone squeaked, holding up her wand.

Shaken out of her thoughts, Hermione found Draco looking as confused as she was. The pale light of their wands did little to illuminate more than a few feet of stone hallway before them.

"What—" Hermione began to ask, but a whisper cut them off.

" _Expelliarmus_."

Three wands sailed out of their owners' hands, the glowing tips extinguishing in flight.

The hallway plunged into darkness.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's** **Note** : So many new follows and favorites for a single week! Thank you!

Chapter 25

Draco grabbed Hermione's arm and tried to push her behind him, but she resisted. _They're after you_ , she wanted to hiss at him. Instead, she reached out to where she had last seen Persephone. When her hand caught the girl's robes, she tugged down, her other hand pulling Draco with them.

Persephone squeaked.

"It's me," Hermione whispered, and the girl stopped struggling.

Hermione tugged her companions towards the wall, pushing back her fear to focus on what had to be done: get out of the line of fire, away from where their attacker had last seen them. She lifted a hand, ready to cast a shield charm—without a wand, it might not be powerful enough to completely block the spell, but she had no other options.

The scrape of footsteps on stone echoed through the hallway, and a chill prickled Hermione's skin.

"I only want one of you," hissed the voice.

With her free hand, Hermione gripped Draco's arm. The other attacks had left their victims with survivable injuries, but Hermione knew there was no guarantee with him. Draco had the Dark Mark on his arm. No matter what he was now, no matter the excuses, he had undeniably been a Death Eater.

The footsteps drew closer.

She could do this.

She had to do this.

Draco tugged at her arm, as if reading her thoughts. Hermione shoved him. As he fell backwards, she sprung forward.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

A jet of red light shot from her hand.

" _Protego_!"

A small shield managed to block the spell, but Hermione sprung below the collision of light, wrapping her arms around a pair of legs as the attacker garbled out another curse.

" _Reducto_!"

The spell flashed as Hermione tackled the hooded figure. The crack of stone and a scream filled the hallway.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted as they tumbled to the ground.

She ignored him, scrambling up the body beneath her, searching frantically in the dark for the attacker's arms.

" _Confr—_ " the person spat, but Hermione cut them off with a clumsy hit to the cloth-covered face.

As the attacker gasped, she finally found a hand and clawed at the fingers curled around three wands. Just as she pried them away, the attacker managed to sneak a leg between them and kick her in the chest. Hermione tumbled away.

 _Stupefy_ , she thought, pointing the first wand she grasped.

Hermione's spell shot over the figure's shoulder. Springing to her feet, she took off down the hallway.

 _Arresto momentum_.

Her spell lit the hallway as it bounded away, revealing a cloaked figure darting around a corner. Hermione followed, nearly tripping as her shoe caught on an uneven section of floor.

" _Lumos maxima_ ," she whispered, hurling light down the hallway.

It was empty.

Running footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled to find Draco.

"We have to follow," said Hermione, thrusting a wand into his hand.

Darting away, they stumbled upon the Grand Staircase. The steps before them groaned as they shifted directions. Hermione craned her neck looking up and down, but nothing moved on the stairs and landings within sight. She cast the counting charm Remus had taught her. The number two glowed at the end of her wand.

"Shit!" Hermione hissed, beginning to climb the steps.

"They're gone. Send a patronus to McGonagall," said Draco, grabbing her arm. "We should get back to Jones."

Anger bubbled through Hermione's veins. She was right on top of the attacker. Literally. She should have caught them. She was the bloody brightest witch of her age.

The phrase rang through her mind.

She wanted to hurl a hex at the wall and break something to tiny pieces.

"Come on, Hermione," Draco said more softly. "She's injured."

Hermione reluctantly raised her wand. She found it more difficult than usual to recall a happy memory, but she finally managed to produce a silvery otter that bounded up through the columns of stairs.

They found Persephone descending into shock, blood trickling down her forehead and chunks of the castle wall scattered around her. The girl stared straight ahead and didn't seem to notice their presence. Draco sealed the cut on her head with his wand, while Hermione paced back and forth, shoving curls out of her face and huffing audibly occasionally.

"They were probably young," she said. "Younger than us, at least."

"What?" asked Draco, leaning Persephone's head onto the ground.

"Couldn't do wordless magic," Hermione explained. "Of course, with an _expelliarmus_ like that, they can't be that young."

Draco scoffed. "We were just attacked and you're compiling a case file in your head."

He lifted the younger girl's legs onto his lap while he spoke. Hermione paused in her pacing to regard him.

"How do you know to do that?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. "She's in shock."

Hermione shook her head. She didn't have time to contemplate Draco's muggle medical knowledge.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Here!" Hermione called out to the headmistress's voice.

Before the others arrived, Hermione turned back to Draco.

"The body wasn't very big either," she said. "It has to be a student, and they're obviously after you."

Draco merely stared at Persephone's legs.

"You should be upset," Hermione said.

"It's expected."

Before she could argue, the headmistress appeared.

"There you are," McGonagall said, jogging down the hallway in her robe and nightgown. "I've sent for Madame Pomfrey and the rest of the staff."

The headmistress stooped to examine Persephone.

"It's a student," Hermione said.

McGonagall looked up at her.

"The attacker. I'm sure of it," she continued. "I tackled them. I could feel them."

After a moment, McGonagall nodded.

"Part of me had hoped that a child could not be capable of such things," the headmistress said. "But this would not be the first time."


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note** : We're gearing up for the big reveal of who done it! I'm not sure how many chapters it will take, but it can't be too many more. Thank you, as usual, for all the follows and favorites and reviews.

Chapter 26

" _Flipendo_ ," Hermione said.

Blue light jetted from her wand. Draco ducked.

" _Locomotor Wibbly_ ," he shot back.

Hermione wordlessly threw up a shield to block the jinx.

"You'll have to do better than that," she said.

Draco held his wand before him and eyed her warily.

"You really think this is a fair match-up?" he asked. "I didn't have a wand for nearly a year. Remember?"

Shrugging, Hermione stepped casually to the right.

"Your attacker won't care. _Titillando_."

The hex hit Draco's shoulder, and he collapsed in a heap, clutching his stomach.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he gasped between fits of giggles.

Hermione sighed. _Finite Incantatem_ , she thought.

As the tension melted from his body, Draco sprawled across the stone floor. Hermione had insisted on dueling practice, and could think of no better place than the Room of Requirement, especially since Draco already knew about it—but neither mentioned this fact. The Room had miraculously survived the fiendfyre, or at least the D.A. practice room had. The room holding the vanishing cabinet seemed incapable of reappearing.

"You're lucky I went so easy on you," she said, holding out a hand to help him up. "I said the spells aloud so you'd know what was coming, and I didn't use anything worse than a tickling hex. I doubt the attacker will be so kind."

Draco stumbled to his feet and brushed off his pants. "We already know they can't do non-verbal magic."

"Unless there is another person involved, or they learn."

He rolled his eyes.

"How are you not taking this more seriously?" Hermione asked, her voice echoing across the arched ceiling.

"It was bound to happen eventually."

"Would you stop that?" she snapped.

Draco stood a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm not the idiot who nearly got herself killed for no good reason."

"No good reason?" Hermione huffed. "How about saving us from being blown to bits by a crazy person?"

"They weren't after you!"

"So we should serve you up on a platter for their hexing enjoyment?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but the chimes of a clock sounded through room.

"It's time for dinner," Hermione said when the last bell sounded.

Neither moved to leave.

By silent mutual agreement, they had avoided the great hall whenever possible since their outing and attack the previous week. They ate early to skip crowds, and when that failed they visited the kitchens where the house elves seemed relieved that Hermione wanted only to eat, not fling clothes at them in an attempt at emancipation.

"We should practice for a bit longer," said Hermione. "We can find something to eat later."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There's that Gryffindor courage."

"Excuse me?" she said, whipping her wand around to point at him. "I don't see you volunteering to parade in front of the student body."

"I'm a Slytherin. Self-preservation and all that," he said. "Isn't that in _Hogwarts: A History_ somewhere?"

Hermione straightened her posture. "For your information, _Hogwarts: A History_ stressed the ambition and cunning of those sorted into Slytherin house—it exemplified the positive attributes that Slytherins such as Merlin possessed."

Stepping closer, Draco leaned near her ear. "Oh, I can be very cunning."

Her derisive laugh garbled when his mouth brushed along her neck, ghosting over her earlobe—that snake knew exactly what he was doing.

"Draco," she said, a little more breathlessly than she had hoped.

"Want me to stop?" he whispered.

She crumpled the front of his shirt in her fist. "Like this is all for me."

"I'll take that as a no."

As his lips worked downward, across her collarbone and towards the dip of her v-neck sweater, neither heard the door open.

"For the love of Merlin," a voice groaned. "It's worse than Harry said."

Hermione stumbled away from Draco, turning her head to find Ginny by the doorway, arms crossed and looking ready to fling her best bat-bogey hex at any moment.

"Fucking hell, Weasley," Draco said, running a hand through his hair.

" _Fucking hell_?" repeated Ginny with a scowl. "I should be the one saying _fucking hell_ , you ferret!"

"Says the voyeur," he shot back. "Here to see just how inadequate Potter is?"

Before Ginny could respond, Hermione placed her body between them.

"Are you two quite done?" she snapped.

"I'm not the one stalking people into what is supposed to be a bloody secret room," said Draco, leaning around Hermione to glare at the redhead. "Why the hell did it let her in?"

"Luna told me you'd be in the D.A. practice room," Ginny said. "You shouldn't be telling people where to find you if you can't keep it in your pants."

"We weren't—it wasn't…" Hermione faltered.

Draco snaked his arms around her from behind. "You don't need to make the Weaslette feel better about her pitiful sex life, love."

Ginny shot him a loathing look. "Are you done defiling my friend? I need to talk with her."

"Of course I can talk," Hermione said, shoving Draco's arms off of her.

Draco stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. "Who's going to terrorize the house elves in the kitchens if you don't go with me?"

"Stay here until I'm done," said Hermione, giving him a stern look. "You know you shouldn't be wandering the halls alone."

"I'm on patrol tonight," he said. "I'll have to wander the halls soon enough."

Hermione couldn't stop from glowering at him. She had insisted that they ask McGonagall to recuse him from patrol duties, and he had refused.

"Now you're stalling," she said before turning on her heel and following Ginny through the door.

"Fine!" he called out. "But don't blame me when you find my emaciated corpse."

As the door disappeared behind them, Ginny slumped against the corridor wall.

"I can see why you're with him," she said sharply. "Annoying and prejudiced. What a winning combination."

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. Ginny wouldn't be able to move on until she got the anger out of her system. If that meant some insults, Hermione could take it in order to get her friend to accept her boyfriend.

"Gin, he's only like that as a front. If you knew him—"

"You're right," Ginny said. "He's not the problem."

Hermione stared for a moment. "He's not?"

Ginny scoffed and threw her hands in the air.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "But I don't—"

"You didn't tell me!" shouted Ginny.

Now Hermione understood. She felt a wave of relief: she could handle this.

"I was going to before Potions, before everyone found out."

"Everyone like Harry and Ron?" Ginny shot back.

Hermione scowled at the memory. "Ron was not supposed to visit on Christmas, and if he hadn't been a total prat, he wouldn't have known either."

At this, Ginny's frown lessened a little.

"Is _that_ why you put him in a body-bind?" she asked.

Hermione kicked at the ground with her toe. "He was in the body-bind when I told him. He had just told me that I didn't need to pretend to have a nameless boyfriend to feel better about him dating Parvati."

A laugh escaped from Ginny's mouth.

"Oh, Merlin," she grinned while still managing to look a bit peeved. "You wouldn't mind recreating that moment, would you?"

"You're not the first to ask," Hermione said. She paused before continuing. "I really am sorry. I was going to tell you before all of this happened."

Ginny stared hard at her before looking away and shrugging. "I guess I can't blame you."

"You can't?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"It's not your fault that Ron is a wanker and that Luna is weirdly perceptive."

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione smiled.

Ginny's lips twitched upwards in a devilish smirk. "It's not like I can't see the appeal, either," she said. "Reformed, hottie bad boy and all that."

" _Hottie bad boy_?" Hermione scoffed. "Better not repeat that to him, or his ego might explode—and does Harry know that you have a thing for Slytherins?"

"Harry was almost placed there, you know. If he hasn't figured it out, that's not on me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall next to her friend.

"As happy as I am that we've made up, I am a little curious as to why you sought me out," Hermione said. "You've been avoiding me all week."

"I guess hearing about your friend being attacked can change your perception."

"That was a week ago," Hermione pointed out.

"There may have been twenty or so hours of _reducto_ -ing things in there as well."

Hermione grinned. There may have been an attacker on the loose trying to kill her boyfriend, but at least she had Ginny back.

"So, what are you going to do?" asked Ginny.

"About what?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know, the person trying to punish your beloved for his past misdeeds."

Hermione's smile faded. "I don't know. Bubblewrap him?"

"I don't know what bubblewrap is, but that doesn't sound like much of a plan," said Ginny.

"It's not," Hermione sighed.

"Well," Ginny said, looping her arm through her friend's, "We'd better change that."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delays. Nearly to the end now, so hopefully I'll be able to grind out the last few chapters quickly.

Chapter 27

"I think you know why we gathered you here today," said Hermione, glancing around the circle of faces.

"Finally calling it quits?" Theo mumbled.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "They're obviously pregnant, stupid."

Fighting back the blush burning her face, Hermione slapped her hand on the table. Theo and Ginny jumped. Draco seemed too busy sulking, to notice, slumping even further down in his chair. Luna just smiled. The owner of the Hog's Head shot them a suspicious look, but continued wiping the bar with a dirty rag. They were alone in their dark corner, for now.

"We can't sit around and wait for the attacker to strike again," Hermione said. "We need a plan. Any ideas?"

"Move to the south of France," said Draco.

"Very romantic," Luna said.

Theo straightened in his chair and eyed the blonde warily.

"Get a new boyfriend," Ginny said.

Hermione frowned at her friend.

"Fine, fine," said Ginny. "We'll use him as bait."

"We're not using Draco as bait," Hermione said.

Draco leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table. "Why not? If we're going to do something stupid like this, we may as well go all out."

"Why not?" Hermione scoffed. "You want to know why we shouldn't use you as live bait?"

Before he could respond, Luna sighed.

"It's not an awful idea, is it?" she said. "There's a good many things that could go wrong, but many things that could go right."

Draco gave Hermione a smug look. She turned to Theo.

"You can't think this is a good idea," she said. "Self-preservation, right?"

Theo shrugged. "I don't see any other options."

Luna tipped her head onto his shoulder and smiled up at him. The corners of his lips twitched upwards, and Draco snickered. Theo's fist flashed across the table and knicked his friend's shoulder.

"Like you're any better?" Theo accused.

"He's not," said Ginny. "Have you seen him say goodbye to Hermione?"

Theo snickered. "Like he's bloody going off to war."

"I knew we shouldn't involve them," muttered Draco.

"We need all the trustworthy help we can get," Hermione huffed.

Draco waved a hand dismissively at the others. "Who says they're trustworthy?"

"Me. I've thought it over very carefully. I trust Luna and Ginny with my life, and you said you trust Theo with yours. Besides, I verified that they were all in Hogsmeade when Vaisey was attacked. Now can we move on?" she asked.

He grumbled and slumped back into his chair.

"Now, as much as I hate it," Hermione said, "The bait idea might be the best we have."

Ginny leaned forward and rubbed her hands together. "This is going to be good."

"Thanks, Gin," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Back to business, I think the attacker targeted specific people, not just random Slytherins. These weren't chance encounters. All of the victims were exactly where they were supposed to be."

"Gabby was sneaking out after curfew," Theo pointed out.

"She was at her regularly scheduled snogs with her boyfriend," said Ginny. "Hannah Abbott seemed to know all about it when she heard about the attack, so others must have as well."

"Exactly," Hermione said. "Hestia Carrow was outside of the Slug Club party, and Xavier Vaisey was with most of the Slytherin quidditch team headed to practice."

"I wasn't scheduled for patrols the night of our attack," Draco said.

"Hermione was," said Luna. "Everyone saw you leave dinner together. They could have assumed you'd be with her until curfew."

"They gambled that I'd escort you back to the dungeons before beginning my rounds," Hermione said.

"Sounds more like dumb luck," mumbled Draco.

"Maybe, but it does give us the perfect way to lure the attacker out again," Hermione said, pulling a parchment out of her bag and spreading it across the table. "You're scheduled for patrols tomorrow night."

She pointed to where his name appeared in the neat columns she'd created months ago.

"They didn't attack me on my last rounds," Draco said.

Hermione shifted in her seat. "We'd have to get them angry. I think they attacked you before because they'd just found out about our relationship. If you were to do something aggravating in front of everyone, then march off to patrols…"

"They'll come after me," said Draco.

"And hopefully make some mistakes in their rage," Theo said. "Unless they're not a Gryffindor."

"Hey!" snapped Ginny.

"Well, it's simple then," Luna interjected. "All you have to do is call Hermione a mudblood at dinner."

What little color he possessed drained from Draco's face. Theo squirmed uncomfortably, while Ginny avoided looking at Hermione.

Pureblood pansies, Hermione thought.

"It's perfect," she said with a grin.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** Thanksgiving ate my writing time. So sorry for the delays lately (especially to you, jekodama; please don't kidnap my cat). Thank you so much for all the support and encouragement you've given to this story!

Chapter 28

"Are you sure about this?" Draco hissed as they walked into the great hall hand in hand.

"Of course," said Hermione.

"Don't we risk any number of people getting pissed at me and throwing hexes?"

Hermione frowned. "I didn't think about that."

"Sweet fucking Merlin's—"

"Oh, calm down," Hermione said, dragging him down next to her on a bench.

She glanced across the room, her eyes locking momentarily on Luna and Theo making their way towards the door. The plan was in motion. They couldn't stop now.

"Time for a show," she whispered quietly enough that the students around them couldn't hear.

Draco sighed and dipped his lips to her neck. She forced a giggle.

"Not here, Draco," she said.

A few faces turned toward them. From a table over, Hannah whispered furiously to Justin and Michael. Hermione couldn't see Ernie.

"Fuck them," Draco sneered. "Who cares what these tossers think."

On cue, Ginny plopped down next to Hermione.

"Stop being so dramatic, Malfoy," Ginny said while filling her plate.

Draco leaned around Hermione to glare at her friend. "That's rich coming from the Weasel who ignored her friend for a week."

"Because she's dating a tosser."

"You bitch—"

"Draco," Hermione hissed. "You need to calm down."

"You're taking her side?" he said, pushing away from her. "Unfucking believable."

"You've been in a bad mood all day," said Hermione.

He stood and slammed his palms on the table. Before speaking he shot her a look of annoyance, no doubt for making him do this. "Maybe it's because some maniac is trying to kill me, and my ridiculous mudblood girlfriend is telling me to calm down!"

Audible gasps echoed through the hall. Hermione found her own throat tightening. He hadn't meant it—she'd had to beg him to do it—but it still stung. She found her eyes filling with tears without much coaxing from her inner actor.

"How—how could you say that?" she whispered looking up at him.

Draco's expression faltered for a moment before hardening. "Leave me the fuck alone."

He hopped over the bench and strode from the room. Hermione sat, ignoring Ginny's hand on her back and the stares from her classmates. She wiped at her eyes, silently counting.

"Let's get out of here," Ginny said gently.

Hermione let her friend lead her through the tables. Regardless of whether or not this worked, they'd have a lot of work to repair Draco's reputation judging from the sympathetic and angry looks being tossed their way.

"If that didn't work, I don't know what will," whispered Ginny as they climbed the stairs out of the entrance hall.

Tucked away in a girls bathroom, the two watched Draco walk across the Marauder's Map, trailed by Luna and Theo. Harry had been reluctant to let his invisibility cloak out of his possession even for a week, but Hermione had promised success—and she had liberally reminded him of all the homework she'd completed for him over the years.

"This is taking forever," complained Ginny.

They had long ago loosened their ties and slumped against the cold tiled wall.

"It's nearly nine," Hermione said, checking her watch. "He should be heading upstairs soon. They might be waiting for that."

She watched with some alarm as Draco's name floated through the castle towards a large group of students.

 _They're just heading to bed_ , she told herself.

"Why are Luna and Theo splitting up?" Ginny asked.

Hermione looked to where her friend pointed. She had been so distracted staring at Draco that she'd missed the two separating behind him.

"Something isn't right," she said.

Standing, she shoved the map into her pocket, following Ginny into the hallway. They weren't far from the others, a few corridors and a flight of stairs.

A scream tore through the castle, and they froze for a moment.

"Shit," Ginny muttered.

They took off running. Ginny's hair flashed in the warm glow of the hallway lamps, and Hermione focused on it swaying back and forth to keep her mind from more terrifying thoughts.

"He'll be okay," Ginny called over her shoulder.

Rounding a corner, Hermione's foot caught on something, and she smacked to the worn stone floor.

"Mione!"

Hermione curled her legs towards her chest instinctively. Her bloodied knee peeked through her torn stocking, and the burning pain in her wrist hinted at a sprain or fracture.

"I'm fine," she gasped, trying to hold back tears. "Make sure he's alright."

Ginny gave her an uncertain look.

"Go!" Hermione shouted.

Her friend nodded.

"It'll be fine," said Ginny as she jogged away.

As soon as she turned the corner, a rushing breeze filled the hallway. The lights flickered then sizzled out.

Hermione's stomach flipped. Ignoring the pain, she scooted towards the wall, clutching her wand in her good hand.

"You won't need that," a voice whispered. " _Expelliarmus_."


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note:** You guys are amazing. Thanks for all the encouragement. I'll post at least one more chapter after this one to wrap things up, maybe two if an epilogue seems right. Thank you again!

Chapter 29

Hermione tried to fling up a shield, but was too late. Her wand slipped from her grip.

"Lucky you landed on your wand hand," said the voice. "Even the great Hermione Granger isn't ambidextrous."

With her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, Hermione was finally able to spot a movement in the shadows to her right. She rose to a crouch, getting her feet beneath her despite the pain in her leg. As quietly as she could, she inched backwards.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"You shouldn't be with him," the voice hissed.

The attacker's footsteps slapped softly on the stone beneath them. Even if her knee didn't cause any problems, Hermione knew she couldn't run fast enough to avoid a hex. Her only option for the moment was to keep talking.

"I fought for the light side," she said.

"Then betrayed us," hissed the voice.

She berated herself for making them even angrier. She needed to change subjects. Fast.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I followed you to the bathroom. I'm glad you sent Miss Weasley on her way so I didn't have to deal with her as well."

Anger flared in Hermione's belly. This person considered themselves one of the good guys, but would have hexed Ginny if she got in the way.

"So you'll go after anyone?" she spat. "No matter what good they've done. All that matters is who their aunt or uncle or grandfather is. That's weak, going after a child like Gabby Goyle for things her father did."

The footsteps paused. Hermione had been ranting, but now her heart leapt at the prospect of having stumbled upon something significant.

"Why didn't you go after Draco to begin with?" she asked.

"You want to know why I didn't go after your boyfriend first?" the attacker said more loudly, hinting at a more masculine voice. "So much for love and loyalty."

Hermione's mind raced.

"Why Gabby first?"

"It's too bad you won't find out," said the attacker.

Her throat tightened, and she cowered closer to the wall. "You're going to do more than hurt me?"

The attacker snorted, and a vague recollection bloomed in Hermione's consciousness. She'd heard that laugh before.

"I'm not going to kill you," the attacker said. "But I will make sure you forget all about that Death Eater."

"My memory…" Hermione whispered with horror.

All this time she'd been worried about her loved ones forgetting her. She'd never considered this—waking up to her old self who couldn't remember Draco's apology, who didn't know that the bristling exterior was a mask he wore out of necessity.

Who didn't know that she loved him.

The footsteps resumed, sounding closer. Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had almost found the answer. It was there, somewhere with that laugh and Gabby Goyle. She'd heard that snort a long time ago, before the war, when they'd still had things to laugh about—before men like Goyle had taken away their childhood.

Goyle.

"Dennis," she said suddenly.

The hooded figure before her paused.

"He killed Colin, didn't he," she whispered. "Goyle killed him."

For a moment neither moved, then a voice shouted in the distance and broke the trance.

"You really are the brightest witch of our age," he said. "It's too bad you betrayed us—dishonored my brother's death."

"Did you have help?"

"The Wizengamot should have helped," Dennis spat, no longer hiding his voice. "Should have locked them all away, passed more laws to prevent discrimination. _You_ should have helped, but I couldn't even trust my fellow muggle-borns to seek justice."

Hermione took a deep breath. "We can't expect things to get better if we're as prejudiced as they are."

Dennis snapped his wand upwards.

"I heard what he called you!" he shouted.

"Please, Dennis. I told him to—"

"Making excuses for your abuser now?" asked Dennis. "I've had enough. I'll do my best not to erase too much, but I've only performed memory charms a few times. You really should have stayed away from Malfoy. _Obli_ —"

A blinding light shot through the darkness. Hermione smacked against the wall, and for a moment she feared it had happened, that she'd forgotten. Then she heard the clatter of wands hitting the floor, and she scrambled towards the sound.

" _Stupify_!" someone shouted.

In the red light of the spell, Hermione could see Dennis's terrified face. He'd been flattened on his back and moved to roll over. Hermione's good hand curled around her wand and she flung the tip into his chest.

 _Lumos_ , she thought.

Dennis slowly raised his hands in the faint glow. Footsteps thundered behind her, calling her name. She kept her eyes on the mousy boy before her. She had never really considered him a threat. He was thin and barely taller than she was, and in her mind, even now as she held him at wand-point, she still saw him as that little boy who followed his brother around like a puppy.

"Hermione!" Draco panted as he appeared at her side.

She felt his hand on her arm, helping her stand, but she didn't move her gaze. The footsteps behind her slowed, and the light grew as others arrived.

"Dennis?" asked Ginny, looking back and forth between the two people at different ends of Hermione's wand.

"Goyle killed Colin Creevey," Hermione said while Dennis glowered at her from the floor. "Gabby was personal, then he moved on to the loved ones of other Death Eaters."

"Merlin," Ginny whispered.

"McGonagall's on her way," said Theo, not that Dennis would be going anywhere with five wands pointed at him and a growing crowd of onlookers trying to catch a peek.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Draco whispered, and she finally glanced at him. He looked sick, ready to vomit. "Someone set off a Weasley explosive that sent everyone panicking, and I was sure they were after me. I didn't think—I never thought…"

Hermione lowered her wand as he trailed off, her anger at Dennis subsiding as she went a little weak in the knees listening to Draco Malfoy worry about her.

"I'm fine," she said, wrapping her arms around his torso. "It's over."

Something akin to gurgling came from Dennis.

Hermione turned to the boy. Crouching, she met his disgusted gaze.

"I hope you can forgive someday," she said. "Things are going to get better for muggle-borns like us. I won't stop until they do."

Before he could respond, McGonagall and a host of teachers stormed down the corridor, scattering students in their wake. As they fussed over the surprise of Dennis being the attacker and what they should do next, Draco pulled Hermione aside.

"You need to get that looked at," he said, pointing to her wrist.

Looking down, Hermione found it had already swollen and bruised.

"Nothing Madame Pomfrey can't handle," she said. "It's going to be much more difficult convincing people you didn't really mean it when you called me a mudblood in front of the entire school."

Draco's cheeks reddened. "You know I didn't want to do that."

Hermione shrugged. "It worked."

The adrenaline was draining from her system, and she fought off a wave of exhaustion.

"Are you really okay?" Draco asked.

Hermione nodded, but her eyes filled with tears.

"He was going to obliviate me," she whispered, slumping into his arms. "Make me forget you—at least the nice you I know now."

"This wouldn't have happened if you dated less complicated people," he murmured, his face buried in the tangle of hair near her neck.

She sniffed and laughed a little.

"Gryffindor, remember?" she said. "We like a challenge."


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note:** I'm glad you guys liked the Dennis reveal. I really have nothing against the poor boy, so I hope he came off as an angry, lost boy who needs some love and sympathy. Anyway, here's the rest of the story! Can't believe we're to the last chapter and epilogue. Thank you for all your favorites and follows and kind words. This was my first fan fic, and you guys made me feel very proud of it. Love to you all! Dramione forever!

Chapter 30

They sat next to one another on the hospital bed, their knees touching, as Madam Pomfrey healed Hermione's wrist.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Draco blubbered when Hermione winced.

"I'm fine," she said, rolling her eyes.

"The potion I gave you should kick in soon," said Pomfrey.

"I'm fine," Hermione repeated, staring down Draco.

He looked ready to argue, but folded his arms across his chest and glared at the floor instead.

"There we are," Pomfrey said. "Should be good as new within twenty-four hours."

"Thank you," said Hermione.

The matron bustled away, her boots clicking on the floor.

"How did you convince the hoards to leave?" Hermione asked, flexing her wrist.

Her friends had all followed them to the hospital wing, filling the space with their echoing chatter. As Pomfrey looked her over, they had trickled away until only Draco was left at her side.

"I didn't. McGonagall made them go up to her office to give their accounts of what happened."

"Wouldn't my account be the most important?"

"Yes, Hermione," Draco drawled. "Your testimony is the most important, wonderful, useful one in the world. I'm sure you'll receive high marks on it."

Hermione slapped his arm. "You're insufferable."

"Don't tell anyone," he said.

A smile tugged at her lips, and she found herself staring into Draco's grey eyes. For the first time since the attack, her mind had a moment to think about what had happened—particularly the part where she had an epiphany about just how deep her feelings for the man before her really were.

"Thanks for being here with me," she whispered and grabbed his hand.

His arms wrapped around her, and she nuzzled into his chest.

Maybe the threat of obliviation had heightened her awareness—maybe the panic had merely muddied her thoughts and she had misinterpreted her feelings. Either way, she was very happy spending her time finding out if this was really love.

The door to the hospital wing sprung open and thudded against the wall. Hermione lifted her head to find her best friends running towards her.

"You're okay," Harry wheezed, scooping her up in a hug.

"Of course," she laughed. "I survived a war. This is nothing."

Draco, still sitting on the bed, scoffed.

"He was going to obliviate you," he said. "And that idiot probably would have messed it up and fucked up your entire brain."

"I can't imagine what Dennis would have been trying to erase," Ron muttered.

Hermione stepped back from Harry to frown at her other friend.

"Ronald," she began, but he stopped her with a groan.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "Ginny threatened me with a bat bogey hex every Sunday dinner until I die if I didn't, you know…"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"'Stop being a git' is how Ginny phrased it," said Harry.

Draco snickered.

"It isn't easy," Ron said. "He is the reason this happened."

Draco frowned.

"It would have happened to someone else if not me," said Hermione. "Dennis was angry with everyone."

"I know," Ron said, staring at the ceiling.

"And…" supplied Harry.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

He jumped a little in surprise as Hermione hugged him.

"Thanks, Ron," she said.

Pulling back, Hermione smiled at the three most important men in her life.

"I'm glad we're all friends now," Harry said sarcastically.

"With that bloody Slytherin?" shouted Ron.

"Hell no!" Draco spat at the same time.

Harry laughed. "Good luck with that," he said to Hermione.

She rolled her eyes and laughed with him.


	31. Chapter 31

_Six Months Later_

"You're going to be late!" Hermione called up the stairs.

Draco shouted something back, but she only caught a couple of obscenities.

Sighing, she turned back into the living room and flopped onto a couch—a very pretty, sleek, uncomfortable piece of furniture. She'd been unable to convince Draco to buy anything worthy of curling up and reading in. If he hadn't been in such need of moral support after standing up to his mother and refusing to move back to the manor, Hermione wouldn't have lasted past the first few shopping trips. Draco was particular. Very particular.

"Do I look like an idiot?"

Hermione looked up to find Draco standing at the base of the stairs. She grinned.

"Lime green suits you," she said.

"Like hell it does," spat Draco. "Why did I ever want to become a healer? I knew they wore these hideous robes."

Hermione stood and crossed the room. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"It's only the first day," she said. "Knowing you, you'll have the dress code changed within a year."

Draco frowned. "Three months."

"I'll expect something in hardback when you lose this bet."

Turning to the fireplace, Hermione picked up the pot of floo powder and held it out to him.

"You didn't have to see me off," said Draco. "I'm not an eleven-year-old boarding the Hogwarts Express."

"I wanted to wish you good luck," she shrugged.

"Aren't you going to be late for work?"

"The only thing on my schedule today is hackling Shacklebolt into supporting my werewolf reform law."

"Lucky him."

Hermione smacked Draco's arm.

"Good thing you love me," he said with an exaggerated smile.

"Get in the fireplace before I hex you."

"Merlin, fine," Draco huffed.

He took a handful of powder and stepped up to the fireplace. For a moment he did nothing but exhale slowly. Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be great," she said. "I'll personally jinx anyone who gets in your way."

"Are you sure the hat didn't try to put you in Slytherin?" he asked.

"Positive."

A smile tugged at his lips as he threw the powder.

"St. Mungo's."

With one last look at Hermione, he stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

"Good luck," Hermione whispered, but she knew he didn't need it.

Neither did she.


End file.
